Time for Elvis to woop some ancient Egyptian buttocks in "Bubba Hotep". Yeah, baby!
Now, you might be sayin' to yourself, "what in tarnation is a mummy doing at an east Texas rest home?" Well, it turns out he's writin' grafitti on the bathroom stalls about Cleopatra.
This here "Bubba Hotep" is about the funniest movie with Elvis and JFK in it, that's what I'm sayin'. I'll throw in a mummy just to be sure, 'cuz you might think Gump was funny or somethin'. But it ain't. Not this funny.
And, near as I can tell, the powers that be made this picture because they had nothin' better to do. That's a sound, ringin' endorsement, right there. If you're wantin' serious, art-house-type crap, then you can rule this one out, but you don't want that. You want The King vs. The King of the Dead with Kung Fu and wheelchairs.
I'll be fair and warn you that this ain't no family picture, what with a lotta swearin' and Kung Fu, and a moment of half-nakedness. I wouldn't want the younguns gettin' in on this.
The collector's edition DVD also features commentary by the King himself. Oh, yeah.
29.12.2005
26.12.2005
Hicks
The popularity of some shows staggers. Recently I was exposed to some episodes of "The Family Guy", a show that many people in my classes refer to often. That'd be the 19-23 yr old set. I guess that means that they don't have that much experience with stories, but the repetition of previous elements without significant alteration leads to ennui.
"Mad" recently ran a comparison of "The Family Guy" and "The Simpsons" with solid reasoning (go ahead, criticize that). While "The Simpsons" did repeat many of the same story elements as in the past, there was significant innovation to make it interesting to even the most jaded viewer... hence the long run of the series.
There are elements that I did like, such as the take on Death (the anthropomorphic personification), which was reasonably innovative and humorous. I'm sure the writers make an effort, and comparing them to Matt Groenig is hardly fair, but even outside of the animation field...
Let's look at Family sitcoms, such as "All In The Family". We see an intolerant, and largely ignorant father figure, a mother that tries to balance things and maintain peace, an antagonistic son(-in-law) and a daughter that sides with him and tries to enlighten the father. This has become a formula, and "formulaic" is seen as a *bad* thing. Still, even successful family sitcoms, such as "The Cosby Show" feature these elements (for the most part... the basic formula has been expanded to accomadate a 5th member, usually a very small, precocious, child).
Story elements are also pretty formulaic, and the problem becomes introducing these elements to the characters in refreshing ways, and resolving them in interesting ways. As time progresses it becomes harder to introduce these ideas in new combinations. Sometimes a new setting eleviates some of the problem. Space, a wagon train, underwater (actually, that one has never done well for some reason), and other unusual locales can allow new elements (subplots) that allow for different paths to, lets face it, the same resolution.
Many people have complained about the lack of depth for television programs, usually excerbated by the commercial nature of media.
I dislike the form, but television might see good use of the "tragicomedy". Tragicomedies start as tragedies, but end happily. Or they could invert that formula. Not that this hasn't been tried, I'm sure.
Damn stupid people, comfortable with sameness.
"Mad" recently ran a comparison of "The Family Guy" and "The Simpsons" with solid reasoning (go ahead, criticize that). While "The Simpsons" did repeat many of the same story elements as in the past, there was significant innovation to make it interesting to even the most jaded viewer... hence the long run of the series.
There are elements that I did like, such as the take on Death (the anthropomorphic personification), which was reasonably innovative and humorous. I'm sure the writers make an effort, and comparing them to Matt Groenig is hardly fair, but even outside of the animation field...
Let's look at Family sitcoms, such as "All In The Family". We see an intolerant, and largely ignorant father figure, a mother that tries to balance things and maintain peace, an antagonistic son(-in-law) and a daughter that sides with him and tries to enlighten the father. This has become a formula, and "formulaic" is seen as a *bad* thing. Still, even successful family sitcoms, such as "The Cosby Show" feature these elements (for the most part... the basic formula has been expanded to accomadate a 5th member, usually a very small, precocious, child).
Story elements are also pretty formulaic, and the problem becomes introducing these elements to the characters in refreshing ways, and resolving them in interesting ways. As time progresses it becomes harder to introduce these ideas in new combinations. Sometimes a new setting eleviates some of the problem. Space, a wagon train, underwater (actually, that one has never done well for some reason), and other unusual locales can allow new elements (subplots) that allow for different paths to, lets face it, the same resolution.
Many people have complained about the lack of depth for television programs, usually excerbated by the commercial nature of media.
I dislike the form, but television might see good use of the "tragicomedy". Tragicomedies start as tragedies, but end happily. Or they could invert that formula. Not that this hasn't been tried, I'm sure.
Damn stupid people, comfortable with sameness.
21.12.2005
Lather, Rinse, Repeat, Delete
Well, the verdict is in, and I failed O Chem. I'm not real happy about this, but I have 3 "repeat, delete" classes and this will be one of them.
What is "repeat, delete" you ask? It is a process wherein you retake a class (repeat) and the former class grade does not count against you (delete). If I'm in luck and get to pick the classes I do this for, then my GPA will greatly improve. If not, I'll learn while retaking CS153 this upcoming semester and I'll choose my final pattern more carefully.
For those wondering, there are a few pointers for physics:
Kinematics: know the formulas, love them. (although you can derive 2 from the other, if you've taken calculus and know what it all means).
F=m*a This one is useful all through life... especially when you have kids. You going at even 1/3 the speed of a given child, can still deliver a world a hurt upon arrival. Suddenly, mass is your friend.
g=9.81 Don't let those bastards try to shove that, "but you can round it to 10," crap down your throat. It's a lie. Three significant figures, baby.
Circular motion is just kinematics over the radius... don't let it intimidate you. (You didn't think I'd make a "torque" joke, did you?)
What is "repeat, delete" you ask? It is a process wherein you retake a class (repeat) and the former class grade does not count against you (delete). If I'm in luck and get to pick the classes I do this for, then my GPA will greatly improve. If not, I'll learn while retaking CS153 this upcoming semester and I'll choose my final pattern more carefully.
For those wondering, there are a few pointers for physics:
Kinematics: know the formulas, love them. (although you can derive 2 from the other, if you've taken calculus and know what it all means).
F=m*a This one is useful all through life... especially when you have kids. You going at even 1/3 the speed of a given child, can still deliver a world a hurt upon arrival. Suddenly, mass is your friend.
g=9.81 Don't let those bastards try to shove that, "but you can round it to 10," crap down your throat. It's a lie. Three significant figures, baby.
Circular motion is just kinematics over the radius... don't let it intimidate you. (You didn't think I'd make a "torque" joke, did you?)
20.12.2005
Two by two
By request, I am updating my blog. I'll have you know that it isn't easy. My social calendar says that I'm booked solid for various horsemen, demons, imps, etc for the next little while. I must say that I was relieved to see
Death: He actually only phoned in to say that he'd removed some woman from torpor, a 4 year long coma, and that I needn't concern myself with sending my son to Satan for a few days. Satan confirmed, and asked if some future arrangement could be made. So it is that I made a deal with the devil. Damn it.
Disease: Myself, I was ridden by Bronchitis during finals week, a lovely time to feel like you're going to constantly wretch sandpaper. I did, however, manage to pull through on at least 2 of the 4 courses, for a total of 8 hours over 5 that are certain passes (C or better). Organic Chemistry, a pox be upon it, along with several other long chain molecular structures, is the hold out.
War: I was recently touched by a bizarre tale given me by one of the frequent bus passangers. This touches me far less, but I consider the implications and what I could've responded with. Owing to the above, things would've gone poorly. At any rate, a recent veteran, someone returning from the conflict in Iraq (a minor set of scraps barely worthy of the title "war") shot his wife and himself, leaving a small child in the wake of this calamity (age:2). He was the lead singer for a band, and, owing to my spirited vocalizations on the bus, I was approached by the guitarist for an audition. I turned it down.
Famine: As you've no doubt heard, my wife lost her job in September. Well, December is the month in which the wire is laid, and we are marching across it step by painful step. I believe we'll make it through Christmas without incident, but January will be the lean times indeed.
At one point, and I must relay this to you, I was surrounded by young folk, all tattooed and pierced, dressed in black, all in that rebellious fervor that only the young can muster with such blind stupidity. Each seeking to be an individual by following people who are clearly individuals, instead of being themselves. As we stepped off the bus one evening, I lead the pack yelling, "free thinkers, follow me!"
It'll probably take years for them to get that one.
Death: He actually only phoned in to say that he'd removed some woman from torpor, a 4 year long coma, and that I needn't concern myself with sending my son to Satan for a few days. Satan confirmed, and asked if some future arrangement could be made. So it is that I made a deal with the devil. Damn it.
Disease: Myself, I was ridden by Bronchitis during finals week, a lovely time to feel like you're going to constantly wretch sandpaper. I did, however, manage to pull through on at least 2 of the 4 courses, for a total of 8 hours over 5 that are certain passes (C or better). Organic Chemistry, a pox be upon it, along with several other long chain molecular structures, is the hold out.
War: I was recently touched by a bizarre tale given me by one of the frequent bus passangers. This touches me far less, but I consider the implications and what I could've responded with. Owing to the above, things would've gone poorly. At any rate, a recent veteran, someone returning from the conflict in Iraq (a minor set of scraps barely worthy of the title "war") shot his wife and himself, leaving a small child in the wake of this calamity (age:2). He was the lead singer for a band, and, owing to my spirited vocalizations on the bus, I was approached by the guitarist for an audition. I turned it down.
Famine: As you've no doubt heard, my wife lost her job in September. Well, December is the month in which the wire is laid, and we are marching across it step by painful step. I believe we'll make it through Christmas without incident, but January will be the lean times indeed.
At one point, and I must relay this to you, I was surrounded by young folk, all tattooed and pierced, dressed in black, all in that rebellious fervor that only the young can muster with such blind stupidity. Each seeking to be an individual by following people who are clearly individuals, instead of being themselves. As we stepped off the bus one evening, I lead the pack yelling, "free thinkers, follow me!"
It'll probably take years for them to get that one.
22.11.2005
Ha!
First off, I'd like to say this.
Second off, I've been noticing a coupla games of the computer variety at the local Wal-mart, and I thought I'd mention them.
"Gun" - A wild west game that, from what I've read, tells it like it is. I won't be getting it, and if I do, I won't be playing it. Rated: Big Honkin' M. From the list on the box, it's surprising it didn't get an "AO" right there, but apparently violence is okay, and the sex is... well, I don't know, but apparently not gratuitous or anything. Unless it is. Midwest freaks set the standards, man.
"Matrix: The Path of Neo" - I'll give this one a bit more attention. The previous one looks story-driven, but intense. Not so this one. It might be intense, but the graphics on the back of the box say "eh". 600 martial arts moves? I've only got one keyboard, man! Thing is, this one got a "Teen" rating, bringing it down from the films that inspired it. Not only that, but it's admittedly just a bunch of fight scenes. I hate to point back at the other Matrix CG as an example of good film... errr... game-making, but they at least pretended to have a plot. Atari, by all reports, wants out of the mainstream game making and into more "mature" games. I'd humbly suggest that this is a poor way to go about it. Rating be damned, give us some meat. Some sort of story. That the game is tied into a movie... y'know, the back of the box even says it has an "alternate ending", but what that means given the context is anybody's guess.
I'm going back to physics.
Second off, I've been noticing a coupla games of the computer variety at the local Wal-mart, and I thought I'd mention them.
"Gun" - A wild west game that, from what I've read, tells it like it is. I won't be getting it, and if I do, I won't be playing it. Rated: Big Honkin' M. From the list on the box, it's surprising it didn't get an "AO" right there, but apparently violence is okay, and the sex is... well, I don't know, but apparently not gratuitous or anything. Unless it is. Midwest freaks set the standards, man.
"Matrix: The Path of Neo" - I'll give this one a bit more attention. The previous one looks story-driven, but intense. Not so this one. It might be intense, but the graphics on the back of the box say "eh". 600 martial arts moves? I've only got one keyboard, man! Thing is, this one got a "Teen" rating, bringing it down from the films that inspired it. Not only that, but it's admittedly just a bunch of fight scenes. I hate to point back at the other Matrix CG as an example of good film... errr... game-making, but they at least pretended to have a plot. Atari, by all reports, wants out of the mainstream game making and into more "mature" games. I'd humbly suggest that this is a poor way to go about it. Rating be damned, give us some meat. Some sort of story. That the game is tied into a movie... y'know, the back of the box even says it has an "alternate ending", but what that means given the context is anybody's guess.
I'm going back to physics.
15.10.2005
14.10.2005
When the winds in autumn change...
I'm thinking of taking a Liberal Arts major... strike that: THE Liberal Arts major. When people think of Liberal Arts, as opposed to English, or Graphic Arts, or such, they think of this major. It's the reason Liberal Arts has a bad rep.
Gotta make sure that it's accredited.
Gotta make sure that it's accredited.
22.09.2005
Genus
Care of "Asimov Laughs Again," page 179.
It was extremely unusual for a Foy to be dying on earth. They were the highest social class on their planet (which had a name that was pronounced - as nearly as earthly throats could make the sounds - Sortibackenstrete) and were virtually immortal.
Every Foy, of course, came to a voluntary death eventually, and this one had given up because of an ill-starred love affair, if you can call it a love affair where five individuals, in order to reproduce, must indulge in a yearlong mental contact. Apparently, the Foy had not fit into the contact after several months of trying, and it had broken his heart - or hearts, for he had five.
All Foys had five large hearts and there was speculations that it was this that made them virtually immortal.
Maude Briscoe, earth's most renowned surgeon, wanted those hearts. "It can't be just their number and size, Ray," she said to her chief assistant. "It has to be something physiological or biochemical. I must have them."
"I don't know if we can manage that," said Ray Johnson. "I've been speaking to him earnestly, trying to overcome the Foy taboo against dismemberment after death. I've had to lie to him, Maude."
"Lie?"
"I told him that after death, there would be a dirge sung for him by the world-famous choir led by Harold J. Gassenbaum. I told him that, by earthly belief, this would mean that his astral essence would be instantaneously wafted back, through hyperspace, to his home planet of Sortib-what's-it's-name - provided he would sign a release allowing you, Maude, to have his hearts for scientific investigation."
"Don't tell me he believed that."
"Well, you know this modern attitude about accepting the myths and beliefs of intelligent aliens. It wouldn't have been polite for him not to believe me. Besides, the Foys have a profound admiration for earthly science and I think this one is a little flattered that we should want his hearts. He promised to consider the suggestion and I hope he decides soon because he can't live more than another day or so, and we must have his permission by interstellar law, and the hearts must be fresh - Ah, his signal."
Ray Johnson moved in with smooth and noiseless speed.
"Yes?" he whispered, unobtrusively turning on the holographic recording device in case the Foy wished to grant permission.
The Foy's large, gnarled, rather treelike body lay motionless on the bed. His bulging eyes palpitated - all five of them - as they rose, each on its stalk, and turned toward Ray. The Foy's voice had a strange tone and the lipless edges of his open mouth did not move, but the words formed perfectly. His eyes were making the Foyan gestures of assent as he said,
"Give my big hearts to Maude, Ray. Dismember me for Harold's choir. Tell all the Foys on Sortibackenstrete that I will soon be there - "
Care of "Asimov Laughs Again," page 179, a very worthy read.
It was extremely unusual for a Foy to be dying on earth. They were the highest social class on their planet (which had a name that was pronounced - as nearly as earthly throats could make the sounds - Sortibackenstrete) and were virtually immortal.
Every Foy, of course, came to a voluntary death eventually, and this one had given up because of an ill-starred love affair, if you can call it a love affair where five individuals, in order to reproduce, must indulge in a yearlong mental contact. Apparently, the Foy had not fit into the contact after several months of trying, and it had broken his heart - or hearts, for he had five.
All Foys had five large hearts and there was speculations that it was this that made them virtually immortal.
Maude Briscoe, earth's most renowned surgeon, wanted those hearts. "It can't be just their number and size, Ray," she said to her chief assistant. "It has to be something physiological or biochemical. I must have them."
"I don't know if we can manage that," said Ray Johnson. "I've been speaking to him earnestly, trying to overcome the Foy taboo against dismemberment after death. I've had to lie to him, Maude."
"Lie?"
"I told him that after death, there would be a dirge sung for him by the world-famous choir led by Harold J. Gassenbaum. I told him that, by earthly belief, this would mean that his astral essence would be instantaneously wafted back, through hyperspace, to his home planet of Sortib-what's-it's-name - provided he would sign a release allowing you, Maude, to have his hearts for scientific investigation."
"Don't tell me he believed that."
"Well, you know this modern attitude about accepting the myths and beliefs of intelligent aliens. It wouldn't have been polite for him not to believe me. Besides, the Foys have a profound admiration for earthly science and I think this one is a little flattered that we should want his hearts. He promised to consider the suggestion and I hope he decides soon because he can't live more than another day or so, and we must have his permission by interstellar law, and the hearts must be fresh - Ah, his signal."
Ray Johnson moved in with smooth and noiseless speed.
"Yes?" he whispered, unobtrusively turning on the holographic recording device in case the Foy wished to grant permission.
The Foy's large, gnarled, rather treelike body lay motionless on the bed. His bulging eyes palpitated - all five of them - as they rose, each on its stalk, and turned toward Ray. The Foy's voice had a strange tone and the lipless edges of his open mouth did not move, but the words formed perfectly. His eyes were making the Foyan gestures of assent as he said,
"Give my big hearts to Maude, Ray. Dismember me for Harold's choir. Tell all the Foys on Sortibackenstrete that I will soon be there - "
Care of "Asimov Laughs Again," page 179, a very worthy read.
18.09.2005
Newb!
My wife has been fired.
I have finally gotten a degree (associates). And IBM (a company that I've always liked) has a life sciences division that would be happy to have me after I wrap up my certificate.
This all amounts to mixed feelings. I shall hence bury myself in the latest expansion for "The Sims 2" and ignore it.
Go me!
I have finally gotten a degree (associates). And IBM (a company that I've always liked) has a life sciences division that would be happy to have me after I wrap up my certificate.
This all amounts to mixed feelings. I shall hence bury myself in the latest expansion for "The Sims 2" and ignore it.
Go me!
10.09.2005
Faire days
With a title like that I should probably post about marijuana abuse at renfests, but I shall save that until I have some experience or at least observation regarding the topic.
No, today I speak of the odd quest I have, almost obsession, with proving my Native American Lineage.
Here's the problems:
My family really didn't keep much in the way of records.
Native Americans didn't necessarily have records.
Geneaology is hard (after a point)
and
I'm lazy.
My obsessiveness is interesting. You give me a possible lead (say, "that's buried in the Dawes.") and I'll pursue it through 400 pages, and I'll go back to double check.
But it takes me about 2 years since I seriously started looking for proof of my ancestory to bother finding out what the requirements for joining a tribe are.
Turns out they're pretty simple (for the Cherokee... I hear other tribes are different). Have an ancestor on the Dawes. The Dawes Roll, named after the Senator that oversaw its production, lists the names of a bunch of Indians that bothered to show up. It was supposed to be everyone in the "civilized tribes", but what are the odds?
At any rate, I've got one. The hard part now is proving it. I'm no where near where most of my family is, so mostly I have to wait until they provide paperwork, near as I can tell. I can poke them, prode, whine, cajole, and possibly bribe... but I can't walk down to the department of records and get stuff. I'm also pretty broke right now (a good reason to continue my quest... I want help going to school). It should put me at something like 1/32, which is low... but it might be enough.
Thoughts?
No, today I speak of the odd quest I have, almost obsession, with proving my Native American Lineage.
Here's the problems:
My family really didn't keep much in the way of records.
Native Americans didn't necessarily have records.
Geneaology is hard (after a point)
and
I'm lazy.
My obsessiveness is interesting. You give me a possible lead (say, "that's buried in the Dawes.") and I'll pursue it through 400 pages, and I'll go back to double check.
But it takes me about 2 years since I seriously started looking for proof of my ancestory to bother finding out what the requirements for joining a tribe are.
Turns out they're pretty simple (for the Cherokee... I hear other tribes are different). Have an ancestor on the Dawes. The Dawes Roll, named after the Senator that oversaw its production, lists the names of a bunch of Indians that bothered to show up. It was supposed to be everyone in the "civilized tribes", but what are the odds?
At any rate, I've got one. The hard part now is proving it. I'm no where near where most of my family is, so mostly I have to wait until they provide paperwork, near as I can tell. I can poke them, prode, whine, cajole, and possibly bribe... but I can't walk down to the department of records and get stuff. I'm also pretty broke right now (a good reason to continue my quest... I want help going to school). It should put me at something like 1/32, which is low... but it might be enough.
Thoughts?
09.09.2005
Da Po-lees
Some might think that I'm referring to an NWA song by that title, and note the missing word with some alarm.
Yep. But it's not official. And it should end with an "ed".
I'm also concerned about my friends out LA way that still haven't returned phone calls, but it's not as immediate as what's going on in my house (go figure).
Stay tuned.
Yep. But it's not official. And it should end with an "ed".
I'm also concerned about my friends out LA way that still haven't returned phone calls, but it's not as immediate as what's going on in my house (go figure).
Stay tuned.
03.09.2005
Woohoo!
A few days back someone in class called me an "old freak."
My response was, "you haven't met my father!"
Of course, when I really do get old I'll water the lawn in my boxers while wearing a flamingo. Seeing as how I've gotta keep up my end of the bellcurve so that others can be "normal."
Don't thank me, I'm just doing my job.
My response was, "you haven't met my father!"
Of course, when I really do get old I'll water the lawn in my boxers while wearing a flamingo. Seeing as how I've gotta keep up my end of the bellcurve so that others can be "normal."
Don't thank me, I'm just doing my job.
01.09.2005
Damn!
Physics.
I love theoretical Physics. I can talk all day about the stuff. Especially the quantum and astro- stuff. That's good warm science. That stuff makes me want to run around in my underwear outside in the rain.
The laws of motion, on the other hand, are kicking my ass. Especially the actual math part of them. Word/Story problems. As you may have noticed, my posting has slowed tremendously, and it won't get much better during the semester. Or Christmas break. And probably not the Spring.
I love theoretical Physics. I can talk all day about the stuff. Especially the quantum and astro- stuff. That's good warm science. That stuff makes me want to run around in my underwear outside in the rain.
The laws of motion, on the other hand, are kicking my ass. Especially the actual math part of them. Word/Story problems. As you may have noticed, my posting has slowed tremendously, and it won't get much better during the semester. Or Christmas break. And probably not the Spring.
29.08.2005
Bare Naked Ladies
It's been one week since class started, and I can tell you a few things.
1) Science classes don't = hard everytime, particularly organic chemistry.
2) People haven't changed. Most of the girls still wear erector sets, and boys where t-shirts and jeans.
3) Instructors cancel classes at the drop of a hat. I don't understand that.
4) Being a non-traditional student is cool.
I'll expound a bit on that last part. The first time I was in college I had no idea what social group to cling to... I didn't feel like I belonged and I think that damaged my chances a bit. These people were just completely different from me, and it felt awkward. I wound up hanging out with religious nuts because they were funny, and I found one other person to laugh with me.
This time there's a whole gaggle of us. Sure we're different in some ways, but we've got it were it counts... we're old...er. Dang it. We've got the physically disabled/handicapped/challenged, the ancient, the veterans... and we've even got a few that cross all those lines. Single Moms and Dads. All of us look back and spit contempt at the younger generation, cause it's funny. Hey, they do it to us.
And not one of us geezers is in school because, well, that's what you do. We're there to learn stuff. To blaze across the heavens in pure magnesium glory. And our time is shorter.
1) Science classes don't = hard everytime, particularly organic chemistry.
2) People haven't changed. Most of the girls still wear erector sets, and boys where t-shirts and jeans.
3) Instructors cancel classes at the drop of a hat. I don't understand that.
4) Being a non-traditional student is cool.
I'll expound a bit on that last part. The first time I was in college I had no idea what social group to cling to... I didn't feel like I belonged and I think that damaged my chances a bit. These people were just completely different from me, and it felt awkward. I wound up hanging out with religious nuts because they were funny, and I found one other person to laugh with me.
This time there's a whole gaggle of us. Sure we're different in some ways, but we've got it were it counts... we're old...er. Dang it. We've got the physically disabled/handicapped/challenged, the ancient, the veterans... and we've even got a few that cross all those lines. Single Moms and Dads. All of us look back and spit contempt at the younger generation, cause it's funny. Hey, they do it to us.
And not one of us geezers is in school because, well, that's what you do. We're there to learn stuff. To blaze across the heavens in pure magnesium glory. And our time is shorter.
23.08.2005
Pete Townshend
I used to play a game, when I was about 13, with the neighbor kids. I'd tell the 10 year-old whether his older sister was wearing a bra, and whether it clasped in front or behind. I didn't know anyone else that played this game. He'd invariably ask me to prove it.
(Mom, if you're reading this... remember "13 year-old boy")
So I'd approach her, grab the clasp, and [i]twist[/i]. This usually resulted in lots of slapping, and her landing on top of me. I looked at it as a win-win scenario: she got to beat a boy, and I had a cute blond on top of me.
I still pay attention to the status of bras. Call it habit or whatever. I don't bother with front clasps anymore... I figure if it doesn't hook in back, it hooks in front and let it go at that.
Today it rained, and it was my second day on campus. Next to me is a blond, shorter than me... and she's braless. Her shirt is white. We're already in the rain, but it's not buckets of pouring... just wet.
My umbrella arm springs to a position about 3 inches from her face and remains there for the rest of the walk (both of us are going to the Chemistry building). I'm pretty sure she didn't wear that shirt expecting it to rain, and definite that it wasn't for my benefit.
As we parted, she said, "that's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me!"
I responded, "you need to get out more."
But, having read "Medea" this evening, I have the itching feeling I was wrong. And that moment will be the best exposure to humanity that young girl ever gets.
A stranger gets rained on so that she doesn't wind up pert-near naked in Chemistry, and gained nothing by it.
I feel a little sad.
Stupid tragedy.
(Mom, if you're reading this... remember "13 year-old boy")
So I'd approach her, grab the clasp, and [i]twist[/i]. This usually resulted in lots of slapping, and her landing on top of me. I looked at it as a win-win scenario: she got to beat a boy, and I had a cute blond on top of me.
I still pay attention to the status of bras. Call it habit or whatever. I don't bother with front clasps anymore... I figure if it doesn't hook in back, it hooks in front and let it go at that.
Today it rained, and it was my second day on campus. Next to me is a blond, shorter than me... and she's braless. Her shirt is white. We're already in the rain, but it's not buckets of pouring... just wet.
My umbrella arm springs to a position about 3 inches from her face and remains there for the rest of the walk (both of us are going to the Chemistry building). I'm pretty sure she didn't wear that shirt expecting it to rain, and definite that it wasn't for my benefit.
As we parted, she said, "that's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me!"
I responded, "you need to get out more."
But, having read "Medea" this evening, I have the itching feeling I was wrong. And that moment will be the best exposure to humanity that young girl ever gets.
A stranger gets rained on so that she doesn't wind up pert-near naked in Chemistry, and gained nothing by it.
I feel a little sad.
Stupid tragedy.
22.08.2005
Bu
The bus.
In a different state, at a different time in my life, all the freaks used the bus. You'd find spiked out punks frenching dogs in the back, while old drunks preach the word at 11 decibels in the front. People with hangovers are in the middle.
This hasn't changed much.
But it does get to be more than that if you pay attention.
Today I met a doctor, a Spaniard, and a man from the Bronx. In small town USA.
In a different state, at a different time in my life, all the freaks used the bus. You'd find spiked out punks frenching dogs in the back, while old drunks preach the word at 11 decibels in the front. People with hangovers are in the middle.
This hasn't changed much.
But it does get to be more than that if you pay attention.
Today I met a doctor, a Spaniard, and a man from the Bronx. In small town USA.
20.08.2005
Sim City
It's hard to review a movie that you haven't seen, but I'll be damned if I'm not going to try.
My brother calls me up this evening with the news: "Sim City is good. Rob old ladies to get the money for this one." As tempting as smacking around an old lady might be, I can't help but wonder if it's that good.
I websearch for "Sin City" and get a few reviews. All favorable.
I websearch for images of "Sin City". It's like looking at a 3D version of the comic book. Sometimes I luck out and the character image is next to that of the actor portraying him. I dunno who played Marv, but that one is nailed.
So critics like it, and it matches the original works graphically - and I like the original works a lot. It's hard not to want to watch this one, save 2 details.
1) It's rated R, probably for mucho violence.
2) There's nakedity in it. Probably not much actual sex, but definitely some nippage. (There's a few pics of Nancy online, and how do you do that without nippage?).
3) I have kids.
So I can't just pop it in the player during the day. And it's money we don't have.
But if you don't have kids, and don't find violence and nakedity objectionable... it's probably a damn good ride.
My brother calls me up this evening with the news: "Sim City is good. Rob old ladies to get the money for this one." As tempting as smacking around an old lady might be, I can't help but wonder if it's that good.
I websearch for "Sin City" and get a few reviews. All favorable.
I websearch for images of "Sin City". It's like looking at a 3D version of the comic book. Sometimes I luck out and the character image is next to that of the actor portraying him. I dunno who played Marv, but that one is nailed.
So critics like it, and it matches the original works graphically - and I like the original works a lot. It's hard not to want to watch this one, save 2 details.
1) It's rated R, probably for mucho violence.
2) There's nakedity in it. Probably not much actual sex, but definitely some nippage. (There's a few pics of Nancy online, and how do you do that without nippage?).
3) I have kids.
So I can't just pop it in the player during the day. And it's money we don't have.
But if you don't have kids, and don't find violence and nakedity objectionable... it's probably a damn good ride.
19.08.2005
Al Jolson
I have the greatest respect for old people. To become old, one must live a long time, and that's something to be proud of. Not everyone makes the cut.
Old people serve a valuable function within a community, generally as teachers of wisdom, voices of experience.
So when they corner you in the local Wal-mart and regale you with stories of their cat, you are well within your rights to tell them to say something useful or shut up*.
I hope.
*For those that know I was raised right, what I really did was say "yes ma'am" a lot and wait for her to finish. 45 minutes later I was released from duty.
Old people serve a valuable function within a community, generally as teachers of wisdom, voices of experience.
So when they corner you in the local Wal-mart and regale you with stories of their cat, you are well within your rights to tell them to say something useful or shut up*.
I hope.
*For those that know I was raised right, what I really did was say "yes ma'am" a lot and wait for her to finish. 45 minutes later I was released from duty.
18.08.2005
I killed him...
And the value of this blog continues its slide into the abyss...
Harry Potter Personality Quiz by Pirate Monkeys Inc.
Harry Potter Personality Quiz by Pirate Monkeys Inc.
TMI II, Electric Boogaloo!
Somewhere someone is thinking of you.
Sometimes they're naked.
I know I am.
Sometimes they're naked.
I know I am.
Friend
Everyone I knew in high school drooled over her. She was new, but she smelled of experience.
It was stupid. None of us could get with her, be with her. Rabbits in love with a tigress. All wrong.
It was always raining when I saw her. Always dark.
Sometimes I miss her.
It was stupid. None of us could get with her, be with her. Rabbits in love with a tigress. All wrong.
It was always raining when I saw her. Always dark.
Sometimes I miss her.
13.08.2005
Tradesmith
To assume that all comic books are written for the juvenile market is akin to assuming that all movies are made for the 18-24 male. While it might generally be so, it does not include some of the better works.
Jeff Smith's Bone comes to mind as a universally beautiful work that is deep and should appeal to anyone with a soul. My library has a complete run of his series. The only other body they even come close on is Elfquest. Regardless of some rather dated concepts, Elfquest is astonishing.
Also, if you haven't yet, I demand you get out and read Neil Gaiman's "Sandman". I'm partial to "A Game of You" and "The Doll House" of that series. The writing and art are coupled beautifully.
But writing is art. At least, some of it is. So you face two with each other and you tend to suffer from the weakest of the two. Bad artist? Bad comic. Bad poet? Well, the Statue of Liberty would still welcome immigrants, but who would remember the poem that just said.
"We got your shores,
and your mountains,
and all them countries that don't like you...
we ain't one of them."
Well, okay... it is easier to remember, but hardly worth the trip. And the world has plenty of statues. Giant Buddha, anyone?
Lots of comics have been art-driven... beautiful enough to get snatched off the rack. But without good writing, why come back? How many pictures of half-naked women blasting armored villains do you need?
Sorry, I'm rambling. I love comics. I love the concept of comics and the potential that comics have as an art form. It is wasted sometimes, and caveat emptor on that one. But I'll be damned if I'm happy about it. Or the abuse I hear.
See, this is something... I like to draw. And I like to write.
Instant comic.
Except that I feel embarrassed by the occassional scholastic finger wagging, like I'm wasting my time with such an effort, when I could be doing something "real."
So I sit here and vent, instead of drawing.
>sigh<
Jeff Smith's Bone comes to mind as a universally beautiful work that is deep and should appeal to anyone with a soul. My library has a complete run of his series. The only other body they even come close on is Elfquest. Regardless of some rather dated concepts, Elfquest is astonishing.
Also, if you haven't yet, I demand you get out and read Neil Gaiman's "Sandman". I'm partial to "A Game of You" and "The Doll House" of that series. The writing and art are coupled beautifully.
But writing is art. At least, some of it is. So you face two with each other and you tend to suffer from the weakest of the two. Bad artist? Bad comic. Bad poet? Well, the Statue of Liberty would still welcome immigrants, but who would remember the poem that just said.
"We got your shores,
and your mountains,
and all them countries that don't like you...
we ain't one of them."
Well, okay... it is easier to remember, but hardly worth the trip. And the world has plenty of statues. Giant Buddha, anyone?
Lots of comics have been art-driven... beautiful enough to get snatched off the rack. But without good writing, why come back? How many pictures of half-naked women blasting armored villains do you need?
Sorry, I'm rambling. I love comics. I love the concept of comics and the potential that comics have as an art form. It is wasted sometimes, and caveat emptor on that one. But I'll be damned if I'm happy about it. Or the abuse I hear.
See, this is something... I like to draw. And I like to write.
Instant comic.
Except that I feel embarrassed by the occassional scholastic finger wagging, like I'm wasting my time with such an effort, when I could be doing something "real."
So I sit here and vent, instead of drawing.
>sigh<
12.08.2005
Blue and Frank Miller
I'm so disappointed in today's criminals. You'd think that with just a little planning and an SUV, these bums could've gotten away without a hitch. Maybe... just maybe, get caught at the border, which'd be a great reason to hop boats in Florida during hurricane season... only a lunatic or idiot would follow you. Despite what Hollywood suggests, there are few of those on most police forces... of that scale, at any rate.
I'm excited about NASA and the fine work they continue to do. On any frontier there have been losses. Unfortunate as they are, they should not deter us from settling the final frontier. A generation away from settling Mars, baby.
I'm excited about NASA and the fine work they continue to do. On any frontier there have been losses. Unfortunate as they are, they should not deter us from settling the final frontier. A generation away from settling Mars, baby.
08.08.2005
Light reading
Usually, with a title like that, I'd say something about lasers, or optics, or something involving light.
Haha!
I'm actually going to talk about the books I've been reading for a few lines. Mostly I've been reading "Mail Call" lately, something about weapons and the military. I enjoy the book, but it's not exactly deep. Nothing on blood grooves, or how to make a bomb out of those chemical stoves they give you with MREs... nothing practical. Although it does feature at least one exploding watermelon, so it gets an "E" for effort.
I've also been shuffling through a book on the pirates Laffite. Turns out that one of my ancestors was a crewmember, and I'm deeply interested in the criminals in my family that weren't politicians or corporate goons. For the record, I'm also related to the James boys that wandered the American West, but only by marriage (my grandmother's). I don't remember the title of the book, but it's frippin' big. I checked the index already, so I'm thinking there's no reference, but it can't hurt.
From this point on, I digress. Proceed at your own risk.
What I last posted featured an actor by the name of John Kassir. John also portrayed "Zagreb" on HBO's "1st and 10"... one of the few shows that my father and I could watch and laugh at together. Until Delta Burke left. Then my father laughed alone.
But the man has apparently had his day in the sun, so I'll keep my eye on Jeff Kober.
Haha!
I'm actually going to talk about the books I've been reading for a few lines. Mostly I've been reading "Mail Call" lately, something about weapons and the military. I enjoy the book, but it's not exactly deep. Nothing on blood grooves, or how to make a bomb out of those chemical stoves they give you with MREs... nothing practical. Although it does feature at least one exploding watermelon, so it gets an "E" for effort.
I've also been shuffling through a book on the pirates Laffite. Turns out that one of my ancestors was a crewmember, and I'm deeply interested in the criminals in my family that weren't politicians or corporate goons. For the record, I'm also related to the James boys that wandered the American West, but only by marriage (my grandmother's). I don't remember the title of the book, but it's frippin' big. I checked the index already, so I'm thinking there's no reference, but it can't hurt.
From this point on, I digress. Proceed at your own risk.
What I last posted featured an actor by the name of John Kassir. John also portrayed "Zagreb" on HBO's "1st and 10"... one of the few shows that my father and I could watch and laugh at together. Until Delta Burke left. Then my father laughed alone.
But the man has apparently had his day in the sun, so I'll keep my eye on Jeff Kober.
05.08.2005
Uch...
This thing is part of my daily dialogue. Probably because video games pretty much defined my youth. The late 70's/early 80's are pretty much a blur of roller skates, Madonna, and feathered hair. But then the NES came out, followed by the breakup of Van Halen (the first break up), and David Lee Roth's solo career, and sometimes I watched "Night Court".
When I wasn't playing "Dungeons & Dragons".
When I wasn't playing "Dungeons & Dragons".
Hmmmm...
A while back I read this article. As one can tell, it involves a rather interesting way of involving both a guy and his S.O. in a game for PS2.
Sadly, not everyone owns a PS2, such as yours truly. But fear not, gamer chicks, help is on the way! Behold the mod for the XBox! Now, with just a little sodery, one can play Halo the way it was meant to be played!
Sadly, not everyone owns a PS2, such as yours truly. But fear not, gamer chicks, help is on the way! Behold the mod for the XBox! Now, with just a little sodery, one can play Halo the way it was meant to be played!
04.08.2005
Intelligent Design
So, over at Clew's Blues, Clew rants about a young punk and Bush's right to be a creationist and we voted him in, so just buckle up for the ride, junior.
I sort of agree. If you disagree with an administration's policies, you should say so... maybe even make an appeal to others in hopes that it becomes big enough to concern the policymakers. But it's not like he took the oath and surprised us by becoming Christian all of a sudden. So odds are the majority is okay with that... and whiners are stuck.
But she made mention of a peeve of mine: THEORY. I used all caps for a reason. This came under the whole THEORY of Evolution vs. Creationism, and that, due to Evolution being only a THEORY, we should discount it, or give it very little credence.
F*** that.
Scientific Theory is like rock, baby. Sometimes that rock is talc, such as the lamarkian theory of evolution (notice that one in the text books lately?), but it's put forward and given a serious going over by professional thinkers. I cannot begin to express the value of people like Einstein, whose body of work is considered THEORY, to society. Anyone think those Nuclear Plants are running on Pixie Dust? How about Angel Dust? Hope not.
It is outside the scope of science to determine the presence or lack of presence of an omniscient being that doesn't want to be found out by direct observation... and it's really not the job that science sets out to do. Scientists don't go looking for proof of Oprah, or Trump... why bother?
Science sets forth to determine the natural laws that bind us, or set us free. And give man a framework that can be used to allow us to climb higher.
Feel free to put a "Tower of Babel" reference in the comments. I won't complain.
Thing is... nothing can be proven.
Let that sink in. Nothing. There's a line of philosophy that sets you up as a brain, in a jar, at a lab, with sensations being sent to you, making you believe this is your life. Your body is an illusion. And you can't really disprove it.
Proving that light goes at a certain rate [i]is[/i] provable... but only under ideal circumstances... matter slows it down or stops it. And the speed becomes a variable. It's still fast, but there's little way of knowing exactly how fast.
Prove that gravity exists. Go ahead. Prove that nothing else does it. Nothing else. It's not simply God's will, or a force that pulls things to planets (which is not all that gravity does, lest we forget), nor the work of infinite invisible gnomes.
Prove, mathematically, that your couch exists. Frustrating, isn't it? It takes some serious work. Your couch doesn't exist until you can measure density, by the way. Or can prove that it isn't simply solid light or some bizarre hitherto unknown natural phenomenon. Or the will of God that your butt hover 1.5 feet off the floor with the illusion of a couch.
I'm kind of a science geek, so that's where I'm coming from, and I can only imagine the frustration that Newton would've expressed at having his life's work scoffed as nothing but THEORY. Which it would be under today's guidelines for such things. Nothing is made scientific law anymore.
Christ.
I sort of agree. If you disagree with an administration's policies, you should say so... maybe even make an appeal to others in hopes that it becomes big enough to concern the policymakers. But it's not like he took the oath and surprised us by becoming Christian all of a sudden. So odds are the majority is okay with that... and whiners are stuck.
But she made mention of a peeve of mine: THEORY. I used all caps for a reason. This came under the whole THEORY of Evolution vs. Creationism, and that, due to Evolution being only a THEORY, we should discount it, or give it very little credence.
F*** that.
Scientific Theory is like rock, baby. Sometimes that rock is talc, such as the lamarkian theory of evolution (notice that one in the text books lately?), but it's put forward and given a serious going over by professional thinkers. I cannot begin to express the value of people like Einstein, whose body of work is considered THEORY, to society. Anyone think those Nuclear Plants are running on Pixie Dust? How about Angel Dust? Hope not.
It is outside the scope of science to determine the presence or lack of presence of an omniscient being that doesn't want to be found out by direct observation... and it's really not the job that science sets out to do. Scientists don't go looking for proof of Oprah, or Trump... why bother?
Science sets forth to determine the natural laws that bind us, or set us free. And give man a framework that can be used to allow us to climb higher.
Feel free to put a "Tower of Babel" reference in the comments. I won't complain.
Thing is... nothing can be proven.
Let that sink in. Nothing. There's a line of philosophy that sets you up as a brain, in a jar, at a lab, with sensations being sent to you, making you believe this is your life. Your body is an illusion. And you can't really disprove it.
Proving that light goes at a certain rate [i]is[/i] provable... but only under ideal circumstances... matter slows it down or stops it. And the speed becomes a variable. It's still fast, but there's little way of knowing exactly how fast.
Prove that gravity exists. Go ahead. Prove that nothing else does it. Nothing else. It's not simply God's will, or a force that pulls things to planets (which is not all that gravity does, lest we forget), nor the work of infinite invisible gnomes.
Prove, mathematically, that your couch exists. Frustrating, isn't it? It takes some serious work. Your couch doesn't exist until you can measure density, by the way. Or can prove that it isn't simply solid light or some bizarre hitherto unknown natural phenomenon. Or the will of God that your butt hover 1.5 feet off the floor with the illusion of a couch.
I'm kind of a science geek, so that's where I'm coming from, and I can only imagine the frustration that Newton would've expressed at having his life's work scoffed as nothing but THEORY. Which it would be under today's guidelines for such things. Nothing is made scientific law anymore.
Christ.
02.08.2005
A little something...
I've been directed, indirectly, from the fine people over at Penny Arcade to the warmth that is Something Awful. Although it is not always for the squeamish, I find it interesting. Even valuable. Although not as valuable as Penny Arcade.
Consider, for instance, this.
Consider, for instance, this.
30.07.2005
General Oddity
I go shopping the other day, for food, and run across this. It's really quite good. Heavy on the poppy seeds, but maybe that's the appeal.
All that, and it's kosher!
All that, and it's kosher!
29.07.2005
28.07.2005
26.07.2005
Aching for the chance...
Autumn is doing a thing to help fight fibromyalgia.
Go, see her... fork over some cash, or spread the word... something.
Go, see her... fork over some cash, or spread the word... something.
Losses vs. Wins
Where my head's at.
Now, Kimi
posted something fairly controversial.
Let me say that again, my way: controversial.
That's a beautiful word, and I'm going to stand on a little box for a moment and say that babies are, indeed, "roast beef."
I'm not trying to say that they should be cooked and eaten. Good heavens, no. Raw is the way to go on that one.
What I'm attempting to say is that, like so many things in a capitalist environment, they are sold.
It's okay. Really. I even argued with myself this afternoon over whether that constituted some level of slavery. The answer was, "yes."
But that's beside the point, the point is that if you want a baby that you can't have via the normal biological means, you wind up forking over cash to someone else who has a child. Since society has labeled the direct marketing of this as "bad" we go through legalities in order to achieve an end, and lawyers get money, which is what the system is about anyway.
I'd prattle on about the cost of raising a child in this world costing money regardless, and one way or another you're going to pay (oh, yes... you will), but instead I feel the need to leave you with this.
Now, Kimi
posted something fairly controversial.
Let me say that again, my way: controversial.
That's a beautiful word, and I'm going to stand on a little box for a moment and say that babies are, indeed, "roast beef."
I'm not trying to say that they should be cooked and eaten. Good heavens, no. Raw is the way to go on that one.
What I'm attempting to say is that, like so many things in a capitalist environment, they are sold.
It's okay. Really. I even argued with myself this afternoon over whether that constituted some level of slavery. The answer was, "yes."
But that's beside the point, the point is that if you want a baby that you can't have via the normal biological means, you wind up forking over cash to someone else who has a child. Since society has labeled the direct marketing of this as "bad" we go through legalities in order to achieve an end, and lawyers get money, which is what the system is about anyway.
I'd prattle on about the cost of raising a child in this world costing money regardless, and one way or another you're going to pay (oh, yes... you will), but instead I feel the need to leave you with this.
25.07.2005
24.07.2005
Missionary Position
I've gotta know: does insulting another religion actually win converts?
I was in the park with my kids when I was approached by two people, one of each gender. The man spoke first, so it took me a while to notice that the woman only had 3 front teeth, but this would not have totally dissuaded me from a church, and I might've given them a chance except that my wife and I attend one regularly, and I'm comfortable with that.
So I told him that my wife is LDS.
"But they're not REAL Christians," he answered. He then began to expound on tithing, lack of faith, and baby-eating (or something). I can't remember what all he said, but it amounted to: the LDS church is evil.
I'm not a member of the LDS church. I don't foresee myself becoming one, although that may change. But I'll be damned if I'm going to enter a church that flings mud at the others with even the vaguest conception that I might join.
Love thy neighbor, people.
I was in the park with my kids when I was approached by two people, one of each gender. The man spoke first, so it took me a while to notice that the woman only had 3 front teeth, but this would not have totally dissuaded me from a church, and I might've given them a chance except that my wife and I attend one regularly, and I'm comfortable with that.
So I told him that my wife is LDS.
"But they're not REAL Christians," he answered. He then began to expound on tithing, lack of faith, and baby-eating (or something). I can't remember what all he said, but it amounted to: the LDS church is evil.
I'm not a member of the LDS church. I don't foresee myself becoming one, although that may change. But I'll be damned if I'm going to enter a church that flings mud at the others with even the vaguest conception that I might join.
Love thy neighbor, people.
23.07.2005
Take thy beak...
So I went over to Apple today to take advantage of my higher download rate and check out some trailers I hadn't seen. I won't get to actually see those movies (not entirely bad), but I do like to know what I'm missing out on.
And I started judging them. Granted, the trailers are made by ad men, but I'd like to believe they could be a little more creative than:
"What if (dramatic picture) everything you thought you knew (dramatic picture) was wrong? (series of seizure inducing action shots) - Name of Film - Coming this season"
Can we PLEASE not use the same formula every other movie? Maybe that kind of thing is hard... you've only got three minutes... what do you do?
An interview with a character? Usually boring, and done mostly on TV.
Highlight the action/comedy/drama in a movie with all the good shots? There goes a good word of mouth.
Maybe, just maybe, you do something entirely different. You could shoot a whole 3:15 worth of original stuff, scripted by the original writers... directed by the director... you know: a mini-film. Maybe you could line up kids and have them suspended from a rope bridge with a big sign for your film because (implied) they're that excited about it.
A dance number or musical... anything... ANYTHING!
And I started judging them. Granted, the trailers are made by ad men, but I'd like to believe they could be a little more creative than:
"What if (dramatic picture) everything you thought you knew (dramatic picture) was wrong? (series of seizure inducing action shots) - Name of Film - Coming this season"
Can we PLEASE not use the same formula every other movie? Maybe that kind of thing is hard... you've only got three minutes... what do you do?
An interview with a character? Usually boring, and done mostly on TV.
Highlight the action/comedy/drama in a movie with all the good shots? There goes a good word of mouth.
Maybe, just maybe, you do something entirely different. You could shoot a whole 3:15 worth of original stuff, scripted by the original writers... directed by the director... you know: a mini-film. Maybe you could line up kids and have them suspended from a rope bridge with a big sign for your film because (implied) they're that excited about it.
A dance number or musical... anything... ANYTHING!
21.07.2005
Hey now...
I agree with the fellows over at Penny Arcade.
1) Rockstar games produces little content of any value whatsoever. Their parent company, Take Two is almost as bad. If it wasn't for "Pirates!" I'd have them whipped along with Rockstar. "Insane Golf," anyone?
2) The ESRB definitions are vague and seem dedicated to some obscure voodoo dance themselves. It has long been a criticism that, in popular culture, violence is more acceptable than sex. An RPG that implies sex, but has no violent content (what're the odds?) would probably be given a higher rating than one that implies violence, but has no sex. See also the game "Singles," a "dating sim" in which the players objective seems to be to have sex. Then look at the "Hitman: Contracts" content. I'm pretty familiar with the game, and most of it is open ended. Assumably one could play "Singles" without actually having intercourse, but it's got an "AO" rating, so the possibility merits the rating... and you can open a serious can of whoop-ass in any of the "Hitman" games. Contracts is the most recently released. All of them, to date, has an "M" rating.
Neither of them seem appropriate for kids. I could handle either at 16 fairly well, and I know which one I'd want to play (the one with sex in... duh), but I realize that I might be considered an exception. So, I checked out this review by what seemed to be a 12 year old girl.
A quick search on the esrb page reveals that all AO games have sexual content and no violence. I'm not opposed to the sex games getting the AO label, what I'm looking for is balance. Nudity is not as bad as gunfire, from my point of view. The question is, how old should you be before you can be allowed exposure to it without risking psychological damage or developmental harm?
I dunno. I'm not a psychologist. But I'm willing to bet that neither strong violence nor sexual content are really something that kids should be exposed to. Here I'm thinking there should be a new ESRB code: E 15+. Drop "M". Really, what good is it? Delay the purchase of sex games for a year? When 12 year olds can get it?
1) Rockstar games produces little content of any value whatsoever. Their parent company, Take Two is almost as bad. If it wasn't for "Pirates!" I'd have them whipped along with Rockstar. "Insane Golf," anyone?
2) The ESRB definitions are vague and seem dedicated to some obscure voodoo dance themselves. It has long been a criticism that, in popular culture, violence is more acceptable than sex. An RPG that implies sex, but has no violent content (what're the odds?) would probably be given a higher rating than one that implies violence, but has no sex. See also the game "Singles," a "dating sim" in which the players objective seems to be to have sex. Then look at the "Hitman: Contracts" content. I'm pretty familiar with the game, and most of it is open ended. Assumably one could play "Singles" without actually having intercourse, but it's got an "AO" rating, so the possibility merits the rating... and you can open a serious can of whoop-ass in any of the "Hitman" games. Contracts is the most recently released. All of them, to date, has an "M" rating.
Neither of them seem appropriate for kids. I could handle either at 16 fairly well, and I know which one I'd want to play (the one with sex in... duh), but I realize that I might be considered an exception. So, I checked out this review by what seemed to be a 12 year old girl.
A quick search on the esrb page reveals that all AO games have sexual content and no violence. I'm not opposed to the sex games getting the AO label, what I'm looking for is balance. Nudity is not as bad as gunfire, from my point of view. The question is, how old should you be before you can be allowed exposure to it without risking psychological damage or developmental harm?
I dunno. I'm not a psychologist. But I'm willing to bet that neither strong violence nor sexual content are really something that kids should be exposed to. Here I'm thinking there should be a new ESRB code: E 15+. Drop "M". Really, what good is it? Delay the purchase of sex games for a year? When 12 year olds can get it?
19.07.2005
Nice guy
So a neighbor, one that was helping fix my kids' bed, has an old Aptiva that he wants fixed for use. It runs ME and looks like a museum piece on the inside. It's got one of the original Pentium chips in it (that's a 586 old school, yo).
Ever try to pull the case off of an Aptiva? I hired Charles Atlas, who had this to say:
"Son of a... who built this piece of... hand me that crowbar..."
And he still didn't get the thing open. I eventually referred to a "fan" site, where, amidst cursing and notices regarding a lawsuit, I ran across the 6-fold path of opening the Aptiva case. It was amazing. So elegant, yet complicated... so inspired, yet evil.
I followed the instructions and opened that puppy up, revealing an inch worth of dust on every surface. The damn thing weighs more than my Dad, and I think I know why.
At any rate, it's now time for me to roll out the anti-static mat, make with teh nak3d, and fix this bad boy up.
Ever try to pull the case off of an Aptiva? I hired Charles Atlas, who had this to say:
"Son of a... who built this piece of... hand me that crowbar..."
And he still didn't get the thing open. I eventually referred to a "fan" site, where, amidst cursing and notices regarding a lawsuit, I ran across the 6-fold path of opening the Aptiva case. It was amazing. So elegant, yet complicated... so inspired, yet evil.
I followed the instructions and opened that puppy up, revealing an inch worth of dust on every surface. The damn thing weighs more than my Dad, and I think I know why.
At any rate, it's now time for me to roll out the anti-static mat, make with teh nak3d, and fix this bad boy up.
18.07.2005
Decomposing composers
"If, as you live your life, you find yourself mentally composing blog entries about it, post this exact same sentence in your weblog."
Random
No, not Prince Random, although I could've used Prince, if he were a pedophile.
CNN, in their review of "Charlie and the Fudge Factory", or something, compared Johnny Depp to Michael Jackson.
From the MJ classic, "Cool Cinnamon" (or something):
When he came out the doorway
We were speechless, what could we say?
And the kid from the apartment
would join the others on the carpet.
chika-chika hooooo!!
Are you okay, Charlie?
Anyway, I finally got my piano cover back. It involved constantly harrassing them on the phone about it, threatening lawsuits, summoning the wrath of demons and Ivana Trump, but we've got it.
And, of course, I'm imagining flimsy negligees on my wife... because all we've got are flimsy t-shirts. And they're not even white.
Oh, yes, and I've been cranky for the past 3 days for no known reason. Probably these cramps and a craving for chocolate have something to do with it.
Oh, and men are pigs.
But the damage that was originally there... is still there.
CNN, in their review of "Charlie and the Fudge Factory", or something, compared Johnny Depp to Michael Jackson.
From the MJ classic, "Cool Cinnamon" (or something):
When he came out the doorway
We were speechless, what could we say?
And the kid from the apartment
would join the others on the carpet.
chika-chika hooooo!!
Are you okay, Charlie?
Anyway, I finally got my piano cover back. It involved constantly harrassing them on the phone about it, threatening lawsuits, summoning the wrath of demons and Ivana Trump, but we've got it.
And, of course, I'm imagining flimsy negligees on my wife... because all we've got are flimsy t-shirts. And they're not even white.
Oh, yes, and I've been cranky for the past 3 days for no known reason. Probably these cramps and a craving for chocolate have something to do with it.
Oh, and men are pigs.
But the damage that was originally there... is still there.
15.07.2005
Hey!
So, CNN reports that a host of comic related comics are destined for release, with a few really catching my notice:
Ghostrider, with Nicholas Cage playing the lead. My comment: Hell yeah.
Thor, no cast or crew known at this time. My comment: Oh god.
Hey, I'd love to keep this up, but The Thing is that all of the ones listed were Marvel comics. Which is nice, but it doesn't cover the other major house. Also, if you read the article you'll note that Marvel alone has 5,000 characters. I want an "Iron Fist" movie so that Jim Kelly footage can be recycled.
So, what of DC? Wonder Woman was brought up, and there's mention of revising her costume. I'm thinking they should go with something out of Kingdom Come. Seriously armor up the gal, give her a sword and let her get amazonian on someone.
How about The Flash, staring Paul Reubens?
Alright, maybe that was bad. Really, I think Viggo Mortensen would make a kick-butt Hal Jordan. Really. He's got good eyes for it. Him versus Sinestro, kills Sinestro, at the end of that movie Guy Gardner is declared the new Green Lantern... well, you know. At the end of the trilogy Hal gives his life for all of us, Guy is still a collossal jerk, and Kyle has taken over as the new Lantern. Go us.
I'd like to see a Justice League movie, with some references to Justice Leage Antartica thrown in, but I'll never get it. Having to get someone to play Wonder Woman, Batman, and Superman on one screen would probably cost about the same as Saudi Arabia. And last I checked that wasn't on Ebay. Maybe they could resort to the second, or third, stringers though. Maybe 2 minutes of screen time for Superman and you're off with Elongated Man, Blue Beetle, Booster Gold, Fire, Ice, and, yes, Guy Gardner. Let them eat cheese.
So, probably, one should delve deeper than those your most familiar with.
How about, "The Heckler?" The hero that finds villainy and laughs at it. And, no, I'm not making that one up.
"Lobo". This one is rated R, and I ain't sayin' why, but the amount of bloodshed would probably stagger the imagination, and make "The Shining" look like a Yogi Bear cartoon.
"Green Arrow." This one has such possibilities that I really don't feel like going into it. You've probably heard of him... but he brings to mind someone else.
Next Batman movie gets the villain "Deadshot," who gets his own spinoff which doesn't suck. That'd be a nice change of pace, wouldn't it?
And the world needs a "Plasticman" movie. Jim Carrey stars, of course.
"Shazam!" also needs a good cinematic treatment. I can't think of anyone big enough, and yet innocent enough, to pull that one off.
And, of course, there's always "Swamp Thing."
Ghostrider, with Nicholas Cage playing the lead. My comment: Hell yeah.
Thor, no cast or crew known at this time. My comment: Oh god.
Hey, I'd love to keep this up, but The Thing is that all of the ones listed were Marvel comics. Which is nice, but it doesn't cover the other major house. Also, if you read the article you'll note that Marvel alone has 5,000 characters. I want an "Iron Fist" movie so that Jim Kelly footage can be recycled.
So, what of DC? Wonder Woman was brought up, and there's mention of revising her costume. I'm thinking they should go with something out of Kingdom Come. Seriously armor up the gal, give her a sword and let her get amazonian on someone.
How about The Flash, staring Paul Reubens?
Alright, maybe that was bad. Really, I think Viggo Mortensen would make a kick-butt Hal Jordan. Really. He's got good eyes for it. Him versus Sinestro, kills Sinestro, at the end of that movie Guy Gardner is declared the new Green Lantern... well, you know. At the end of the trilogy Hal gives his life for all of us, Guy is still a collossal jerk, and Kyle has taken over as the new Lantern. Go us.
I'd like to see a Justice League movie, with some references to Justice Leage Antartica thrown in, but I'll never get it. Having to get someone to play Wonder Woman, Batman, and Superman on one screen would probably cost about the same as Saudi Arabia. And last I checked that wasn't on Ebay. Maybe they could resort to the second, or third, stringers though. Maybe 2 minutes of screen time for Superman and you're off with Elongated Man, Blue Beetle, Booster Gold, Fire, Ice, and, yes, Guy Gardner. Let them eat cheese.
So, probably, one should delve deeper than those your most familiar with.
How about, "The Heckler?" The hero that finds villainy and laughs at it. And, no, I'm not making that one up.
"Lobo". This one is rated R, and I ain't sayin' why, but the amount of bloodshed would probably stagger the imagination, and make "The Shining" look like a Yogi Bear cartoon.
"Green Arrow." This one has such possibilities that I really don't feel like going into it. You've probably heard of him... but he brings to mind someone else.
Next Batman movie gets the villain "Deadshot," who gets his own spinoff which doesn't suck. That'd be a nice change of pace, wouldn't it?
And the world needs a "Plasticman" movie. Jim Carrey stars, of course.
"Shazam!" also needs a good cinematic treatment. I can't think of anyone big enough, and yet innocent enough, to pull that one off.
And, of course, there's always "Swamp Thing."
13.07.2005
Sheet music
Last night I called the piano store asking for our cover, which has been more than a month suffering repair on a nick. The woman on the other end told me that the boss, the head honcho, numero uno would be in any second. I left a message (sigh) and went about my life.
No reply.
I called today, left another message (this one with a machine), and figured I'd have to employ a special ops team to rescue my piano cover from a dark holding cell where they were doing unspeakable things to it with electricity and varnish.
20 minutes later I got a return phone call.
On the other end a reformed chain-smoker told me that the blew a tire on the way out. But I'd heard about that. Not enough.
His partner had a heartattack, true story >smirk<. They were driving through Nebraska in the middle of no where (redundant) when his associate reached up and clutched his chest (you figure out whose) and started gasping about pain. Mr. Man makes for his cell phone and tells the operator that he's going to meet the ambulance on the highway, heading for the hospital. If he hadn't acted quickly that man could've died.
>crickets chirp<
"Oh, hey. Your piano cover caught fire, so it's down in the shop for a few more repairs. It'll be to you on Monday."
If I had a dog, I'd've kicked it. To Australia.
"See, we were driving down the road, before the heartattack, when these guys in a truck drove past us and threw a cigarette in the back of my truck, and blanket back there caught fire, which was on top of your cover. It's not real bad."
I was so stunned that I didn't bother to ask what the hell made them drag my piano cover out to Chicago instead of dropping it off at my house on the way. The mind boggles at what the man could've come up with.
"Well, it turns out there's a rare imprint on the back of your cover, which means that it might've been owned by Catherine the Great and have gold lined hammers designed by Faberge. That explains the weight... and we have to know if you own a historical piece."
And I'm not getting a discount.
No reply.
I called today, left another message (this one with a machine), and figured I'd have to employ a special ops team to rescue my piano cover from a dark holding cell where they were doing unspeakable things to it with electricity and varnish.
20 minutes later I got a return phone call.
On the other end a reformed chain-smoker told me that the blew a tire on the way out. But I'd heard about that. Not enough.
His partner had a heartattack, true story >smirk<. They were driving through Nebraska in the middle of no where (redundant) when his associate reached up and clutched his chest (you figure out whose) and started gasping about pain. Mr. Man makes for his cell phone and tells the operator that he's going to meet the ambulance on the highway, heading for the hospital. If he hadn't acted quickly that man could've died.
>crickets chirp<
"Oh, hey. Your piano cover caught fire, so it's down in the shop for a few more repairs. It'll be to you on Monday."
If I had a dog, I'd've kicked it. To Australia.
"See, we were driving down the road, before the heartattack, when these guys in a truck drove past us and threw a cigarette in the back of my truck, and blanket back there caught fire, which was on top of your cover. It's not real bad."
I was so stunned that I didn't bother to ask what the hell made them drag my piano cover out to Chicago instead of dropping it off at my house on the way. The mind boggles at what the man could've come up with.
"Well, it turns out there's a rare imprint on the back of your cover, which means that it might've been owned by Catherine the Great and have gold lined hammers designed by Faberge. That explains the weight... and we have to know if you own a historical piece."
And I'm not getting a discount.
12.07.2005
Because you asked for it!
Well, no, you didn't, but I'm going to tell you anyway.
I made a call this evening. One in a long series of calls that almost certainly would end with something like this:
Booger:"We'll have it to you tonight... in one hour."
Me: >sigh< "okay."
And it did.
I would like to have mentioned that this tale had some happy ending, that I now had a vital piece of equipment that I've been longing for these past two months, that my children are now reasonably incapable of injuring themselves in my house, and that I'd stopped reading the Series of Unfortunate Events.
Sadly, most of that is not true.
I have, still, an open piano from which a small child might extract a key and strike anyone within range before I call out "no," whereupon he immediately cries and makes me feel guilty about taking a blunt instrument from him.
And I'm still reading Lemony Snicket books.
Oh, and the damn cover for my piano isn't here.
The past week and a half has consisted primarily of phone calls with the shop that has our cover.
I get this:
"We'll have it to you in two days."
"We'll install it in the morning."
"He went on a trip to Chicago, something about a warehouse and Truman Capote. He won't be back until Monday."
"I mean Tuesday."
"He told me where it was, but I didn't take notes."
"He should be here in an hour."
"He should be here any second... I'll have him call you back."
2 hours pass, and here I am typing on my computer. I think my cover was actually involved in a time travel incident and can be found next to a picture of Kate Winslet on the bottom of the Atlantic.
I made a call this evening. One in a long series of calls that almost certainly would end with something like this:
Booger:"We'll have it to you tonight... in one hour."
Me: >sigh< "okay."
And it did.
I would like to have mentioned that this tale had some happy ending, that I now had a vital piece of equipment that I've been longing for these past two months, that my children are now reasonably incapable of injuring themselves in my house, and that I'd stopped reading the Series of Unfortunate Events.
Sadly, most of that is not true.
I have, still, an open piano from which a small child might extract a key and strike anyone within range before I call out "no," whereupon he immediately cries and makes me feel guilty about taking a blunt instrument from him.
And I'm still reading Lemony Snicket books.
Oh, and the damn cover for my piano isn't here.
The past week and a half has consisted primarily of phone calls with the shop that has our cover.
I get this:
"We'll have it to you in two days."
"We'll install it in the morning."
"He went on a trip to Chicago, something about a warehouse and Truman Capote. He won't be back until Monday."
"I mean Tuesday."
"He told me where it was, but I didn't take notes."
"He should be here in an hour."
"He should be here any second... I'll have him call you back."
2 hours pass, and here I am typing on my computer. I think my cover was actually involved in a time travel incident and can be found next to a picture of Kate Winslet on the bottom of the Atlantic.
Attack of the Revenge of the Wrath of the...
Microsoft, that bastion, paragon, et cetera, of intellect is releasing a sequel to that clever, story-oriented, crpg (pronounced "crap" - the "g" is silent) Dungeon Siege.
That's right. Dungeon Siege II.
Having recently played the original, and thinking something along the lines of "what a magnificent work of crpg this is!" I shall go over why I think that something such as this is a bad idea.
1) It sucks.
2) The graphics were merely okay, and that was the best part.
3) It sucks.
The most delightful element, really, was the goblins, and the guy in the leisure suit was a bit much. At that point, I expected the game to take off into a nice steam-punky tunnel where I could find some redeeming qualities.
Hell no. Go kill a dragon, blah, blah, go kill a demon, blah, blah, go kill my goldfish.
At some point you face an army of the dead, but it's just not interesting. Keep hucking fireballs until everything dies.
While the game play was easy, and the graphics weren't bad, the game itself reminded me only vaguely of the tabletop RPGs, and then only in the "I hit it with my axe" juvinality that I got when I was 11.
And they made a sequel?
I truly long for the day when computer companies hire writers to come up with this stuff.
That's right. Dungeon Siege II.
Having recently played the original, and thinking something along the lines of "what a magnificent work of crpg this is!" I shall go over why I think that something such as this is a bad idea.
1) It sucks.
2) The graphics were merely okay, and that was the best part.
3) It sucks.
The most delightful element, really, was the goblins, and the guy in the leisure suit was a bit much. At that point, I expected the game to take off into a nice steam-punky tunnel where I could find some redeeming qualities.
Hell no. Go kill a dragon, blah, blah, go kill a demon, blah, blah, go kill my goldfish.
At some point you face an army of the dead, but it's just not interesting. Keep hucking fireballs until everything dies.
While the game play was easy, and the graphics weren't bad, the game itself reminded me only vaguely of the tabletop RPGs, and then only in the "I hit it with my axe" juvinality that I got when I was 11.
And they made a sequel?
I truly long for the day when computer companies hire writers to come up with this stuff.
10.07.2005
Winter Green
You don't want to know, but I'll share anyway.
I was in the shower the other day, brushing my teeth as I rinsed my hair, because I combine activities where I can. I leaned forward to get the bottom of my neck and spit out my toothpaste.
Onto my penis. GAH!
My past experience (don't ask) with mint in that region was relatively pleasant and low-key. I'm thinking of a popular car type right about now.
Anyway, toothpaste is not like that... not at all. It's gritty and chemically and it BURNS! It burns like a cross to the forehead!
Okay, I'll calm down now and shut up.
I was in the shower the other day, brushing my teeth as I rinsed my hair, because I combine activities where I can. I leaned forward to get the bottom of my neck and spit out my toothpaste.
Onto my penis. GAH!
My past experience (don't ask) with mint in that region was relatively pleasant and low-key. I'm thinking of a popular car type right about now.
Anyway, toothpaste is not like that... not at all. It's gritty and chemically and it BURNS! It burns like a cross to the forehead!
Okay, I'll calm down now and shut up.
Cigarette?
I have Someone Else to thank for this:
You're Lolita!
by Vladimir Nabokov
Considered by most to be depraved and immoral, you are obsessed with
sex. What really tantalizes you is that which deviates from societal standards in every
way, though you admit that this probably isn't the best and you're not sure what causes
this desire. Nonetheless, you've done some pretty nefarious things in your life, and
probably gotten caught for them. The names have been changed, but the problems are real.
Please stay away from children.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
06.07.2005
Warranted...
I don't remember much about the day. School was just starting. I was 16 and dreaming that a girl would creep through my bedroom window and strip for no discernable reason and crawl into my bed. I listened to alot of David Lee Roth, but mostly cause it was the only tape I had.
The afternoons were filled with me dragging myself home across a mile of dirt and thorns, the streets lined with broken fraternity houses openly mocking my future and present in one awesome display. Sometimes young women would be helping them wash their cars. And, of course, they were wearing white t-shirts. Probably with wacky slogans like "I'm easy!" on them.
I was so pent up I could cry. The only girl showing any interest in me picked her nose. And kicked me in the crotch.
I crawled home that day. Feeling dark, feeling like prodding something with 4 feet of sharp metal until it stopped crying. I flopped on the couch, where TV was on. Dad was on the well-worn recliner that was his, remote at hand. He was in jeans and a button up shirt, blue plaid.
A Mrs. Smith commercial came on, ending with a long shot of their cherry pie. And my dad interjects, "and every man loves a good cherry pie!"
I can feel my face turning red, my lips pursing, my cheeks bulging... he's hit the ticklish spot and I run to my room to avoid the torrent of laughter that threatens to rip me open. I sink to the floor, great gasps, chuckles, giggling, raw guffaws echoing in the small bedroom. I'm blind with tears of mirth when I finally calm down.
From my father, who must be talking to Mom, I hear: "Think he knows?"
And it was an awakening. Probably on both sides, since he started handing me condoms and expecting me to know the scene, but it brought me to that point where I realized that my father must've been in the same position, that he had grown up, learned about sex, probably done about the same thing in front of his father.
The afternoons were filled with me dragging myself home across a mile of dirt and thorns, the streets lined with broken fraternity houses openly mocking my future and present in one awesome display. Sometimes young women would be helping them wash their cars. And, of course, they were wearing white t-shirts. Probably with wacky slogans like "I'm easy!" on them.
I was so pent up I could cry. The only girl showing any interest in me picked her nose. And kicked me in the crotch.
I crawled home that day. Feeling dark, feeling like prodding something with 4 feet of sharp metal until it stopped crying. I flopped on the couch, where TV was on. Dad was on the well-worn recliner that was his, remote at hand. He was in jeans and a button up shirt, blue plaid.
A Mrs. Smith commercial came on, ending with a long shot of their cherry pie. And my dad interjects, "and every man loves a good cherry pie!"
I can feel my face turning red, my lips pursing, my cheeks bulging... he's hit the ticklish spot and I run to my room to avoid the torrent of laughter that threatens to rip me open. I sink to the floor, great gasps, chuckles, giggling, raw guffaws echoing in the small bedroom. I'm blind with tears of mirth when I finally calm down.
From my father, who must be talking to Mom, I hear: "Think he knows?"
And it was an awakening. Probably on both sides, since he started handing me condoms and expecting me to know the scene, but it brought me to that point where I realized that my father must've been in the same position, that he had grown up, learned about sex, probably done about the same thing in front of his father.
Calling all eunechs...
I love Penny Arcade. At some point, and I dug but didn't find it, they mentioned that a parents group (of course) had put out a list of video games too violent for children.
Somewhere in an alternate dimension a 16 year old me is drooling over this like a checklist... because that's what it is. I hear that somebody doesn't want me to play something, and I'll claw my way through reinforced concrete to touch the stuff. And I can't imagine children being much different now than they were then. Really.
One of them belongs to a favorite franchise, hitman. This is the franchise I go to when certain elements of my life make me want to scream. It used to be Doom but it lacks a certain finesse of which I'm fond.
The thing has a big "M" on the front, and it doesn't stand for "Mensch". Wal-mart won't sell it to kids, the rating hasn't dropped to "T" or anything, and it's not going to.
Most violent games make no bones about the nature of the content. Hitman is pretty sedate as far as covers go. The word "Hitman", with a picture of a guy with guns. You might think the game doesn't include blood. You'd be stupid, but that's not illegal. Read. The. Back. Words like "sin", "violence", "blood", et cetera should be strong indicators.
Other games are worse, blood dripping off swords while grinning corpses litter the landscape, maybe a charnel house for color, with heart-warming titles like: "Your @$$ is mine: Blood Vengeance 3". As cool as this game might seem to your average teen, it's got all the earmarks of not being a "kid's game". Keep it out of your kid's hands. Don't buy it! Don't let them buy it. Invade their privacy... whatever. You don't trust 'em, that's an issue for you and your family.
Don't take it out on everyone else.
Pax Nabisco, people.
Somewhere in an alternate dimension a 16 year old me is drooling over this like a checklist... because that's what it is. I hear that somebody doesn't want me to play something, and I'll claw my way through reinforced concrete to touch the stuff. And I can't imagine children being much different now than they were then. Really.
One of them belongs to a favorite franchise, hitman. This is the franchise I go to when certain elements of my life make me want to scream. It used to be Doom but it lacks a certain finesse of which I'm fond.
The thing has a big "M" on the front, and it doesn't stand for "Mensch". Wal-mart won't sell it to kids, the rating hasn't dropped to "T" or anything, and it's not going to.
Most violent games make no bones about the nature of the content. Hitman is pretty sedate as far as covers go. The word "Hitman", with a picture of a guy with guns. You might think the game doesn't include blood. You'd be stupid, but that's not illegal. Read. The. Back. Words like "sin", "violence", "blood", et cetera should be strong indicators.
Other games are worse, blood dripping off swords while grinning corpses litter the landscape, maybe a charnel house for color, with heart-warming titles like: "Your @$$ is mine: Blood Vengeance 3". As cool as this game might seem to your average teen, it's got all the earmarks of not being a "kid's game". Keep it out of your kid's hands. Don't buy it! Don't let them buy it. Invade their privacy... whatever. You don't trust 'em, that's an issue for you and your family.
Don't take it out on everyone else.
Pax Nabisco, people.
05.07.2005
Kurtzy
Scott Kurtz had some interesting points.
Know your audience, I think, is the most important element of communication. Speak their language. This, of course, means that sometimes cursing is not only accepted, it's necessary.
Another comic, I forget which, demonstrated this with a car mechanic. The main character leans over his engine, looks at the mechanic, and says "I think my main shaft is stripped" (or something.). The mechanic looks at him blankly. The main character then says "My !#%$ main shaft is !@$&!#" and the mechanic says "Well, why didn't you !#%@ say so?"
"Forgot where I was."
It's like that. Oddly, the military wasn't entirely like that. My friends and I got along fine without much cussing, as did most of my supervisors. There were people I interacted with that would just about constantly spew vulgarities unless talking to an officer. But I couldn't talk to them like that without that blank look.
Try speaking Spanish in a room of Francophones and it's the same response.
I'll shut up now.
Know your audience, I think, is the most important element of communication. Speak their language. This, of course, means that sometimes cursing is not only accepted, it's necessary.
Another comic, I forget which, demonstrated this with a car mechanic. The main character leans over his engine, looks at the mechanic, and says "I think my main shaft is stripped" (or something.). The mechanic looks at him blankly. The main character then says "My !#%$ main shaft is !@$&!#" and the mechanic says "Well, why didn't you !#%@ say so?"
"Forgot where I was."
It's like that. Oddly, the military wasn't entirely like that. My friends and I got along fine without much cussing, as did most of my supervisors. There were people I interacted with that would just about constantly spew vulgarities unless talking to an officer. But I couldn't talk to them like that without that blank look.
Try speaking Spanish in a room of Francophones and it's the same response.
I'll shut up now.
Love & Marriage
This is a rather interesting article about the state of teen sexuality. Or, at least, what pediatricians think it is. And what parent groups think it is. And somewhere out there is a bunch of lying teenagers giving an equally invalid view of what it is.
By the time I hit 13 I'd read up fully on female anatomy. My first wife knew less about her anatomy than I did, before I touched her. In my teens I had an eerie ability to locate a nipple blindfolded.
No sex. I was well informed. Educated beyond the pale. I packed a rubber after about 16. No sex.
No sex until 22. Some of it can be attributed to being socially inept, and being "that freak," but I'm certain that some girls would've just laid me down and done the deed, given the chance. Replaying my youth in my head, there were definite moments that were all about me NOT WANTING TO.
Of course, by the time I hit my prime, sex was scary. Drugs only slightly more scary.
I believe that some folk do well with the facts laid out in front of them. That's all they need, really.
Some folks just need a little boost. Tell them something about relationships being better without sex until marriage or something. I dunno. Get stupid, it's going to have to be an emotional appeal. Make 'em feel guilty. "Everytime you pork, baby Jesus cries."
Some people need medication or rubbers. They aren't capable of controlling themselves, and probably should be locked up until later in life, but you can't realistically do that. Get 'em to a Dr., let 'em know you love 'em, and make sure they know how to use the stuff. Don't, for the love of your child, be bashful. I think most kids fall under this category, really. 50% having sex kind of suggests that.
Some people should probably have been abortions, and are just going to drain society while contributing minimally... if at all. And they'll spawn generations of the same crap. Slap Norplant in 'em (male and female) or maybe surgery is the answer. I dunno. Killing 'em seems a little strong. The world needs ditch-diggers, too.
By the time I hit 13 I'd read up fully on female anatomy. My first wife knew less about her anatomy than I did, before I touched her. In my teens I had an eerie ability to locate a nipple blindfolded.
No sex. I was well informed. Educated beyond the pale. I packed a rubber after about 16. No sex.
No sex until 22. Some of it can be attributed to being socially inept, and being "that freak," but I'm certain that some girls would've just laid me down and done the deed, given the chance. Replaying my youth in my head, there were definite moments that were all about me NOT WANTING TO.
Of course, by the time I hit my prime, sex was scary. Drugs only slightly more scary.
I believe that some folk do well with the facts laid out in front of them. That's all they need, really.
Some folks just need a little boost. Tell them something about relationships being better without sex until marriage or something. I dunno. Get stupid, it's going to have to be an emotional appeal. Make 'em feel guilty. "Everytime you pork, baby Jesus cries."
Some people need medication or rubbers. They aren't capable of controlling themselves, and probably should be locked up until later in life, but you can't realistically do that. Get 'em to a Dr., let 'em know you love 'em, and make sure they know how to use the stuff. Don't, for the love of your child, be bashful. I think most kids fall under this category, really. 50% having sex kind of suggests that.
Some people should probably have been abortions, and are just going to drain society while contributing minimally... if at all. And they'll spawn generations of the same crap. Slap Norplant in 'em (male and female) or maybe surgery is the answer. I dunno. Killing 'em seems a little strong. The world needs ditch-diggers, too.
Cars
"Magic: the Gathering"(tm) is a card game you may have heard of. In this game there are 5 colors that can be combined in creating a deck, each one representing a different perspective:
White: plains, purity, society, nobility, protection
Black: swamps, death, corruption
Red: Mountains, fire, anger, violence
Blue: Oceans, water, thought
Green: Forest, growth, wilderness, life
In effect, every deck you make, or what you play, is a philosophical statement of the moment. Play Black/Red and you're looking to kill. Green/White? Outlive. You get the point.
But amongst these cards is another class: colorless. The lands you tap for mana (mountains, oceans, etc...) are colorless.
As are the machines.
There are magical machines that, though they cost more, don't require a specific type of mana to use.
It is this type of deck that I love most. But it doesn't represent anything. Cold reason? Look to blue. Hatred? Black. Anger? Red.
The machines are just the slow, inevitable march of me.
White: plains, purity, society, nobility, protection
Black: swamps, death, corruption
Red: Mountains, fire, anger, violence
Blue: Oceans, water, thought
Green: Forest, growth, wilderness, life
In effect, every deck you make, or what you play, is a philosophical statement of the moment. Play Black/Red and you're looking to kill. Green/White? Outlive. You get the point.
But amongst these cards is another class: colorless. The lands you tap for mana (mountains, oceans, etc...) are colorless.
As are the machines.
There are magical machines that, though they cost more, don't require a specific type of mana to use.
It is this type of deck that I love most. But it doesn't represent anything. Cold reason? Look to blue. Hatred? Black. Anger? Red.
The machines are just the slow, inevitable march of me.
Heinlein
A friend and I were having a discussion about favorite authors when Heinlein came up. I've only read the one book ("Stranger in a Strange Land") but the thing was thick with symbolism and message... a bit heavy handed for me, and I said so. If this book is typical of his work then I will have to generally avoid him in favor of authors I find more informative or entertaining.
My friend responded that my claims were unfounded and set forth to set me straight on Heinlein's work. He sited intelligence and wisdom of the author and damn near cried blood about the beauty of his work.
Ummm...
He may have the intellect of Einstein and the wisdom of Ghandi, but it doesn't mean that he's a great writer.
And beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
My friend responded that my claims were unfounded and set forth to set me straight on Heinlein's work. He sited intelligence and wisdom of the author and damn near cried blood about the beauty of his work.
Ummm...
He may have the intellect of Einstein and the wisdom of Ghandi, but it doesn't mean that he's a great writer.
And beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
04.07.2005
I have a permit for that...
I'm sitting here thinking of a plot for a Thor movie. I can't say why, really. A dream I had suggested Thor to me, and I know jack about the actual character beyond the very basics. I could make a whole 'nother Thor for all I know.
But the thing that I pulled away from my dream was that gods, and religion, are supposed to engender hope. It's one of the few social services that they perform that can't be performed by others.
It's also the winning answer to the riddle game... the one the demon doesn't win against Dream in the story arc "A Season of Mist" from the Sandman series. Neil Gaiman is awesome.
But the thing that I pulled away from my dream was that gods, and religion, are supposed to engender hope. It's one of the few social services that they perform that can't be performed by others.
It's also the winning answer to the riddle game... the one the demon doesn't win against Dream in the story arc "A Season of Mist" from the Sandman series. Neil Gaiman is awesome.
30.06.2005
Over the hill...
When I was but fifteen years of age my father gave unto me... a truck. This truck had some minor problem that the last mechanic had assured us he would set right.
The truck was delivered to the mechanic for said minor repair.
Fast forward three years. The truck still sat in a field of weeds behind the mechanics. But now my father and I were pretty insistent that the damn thing finally be fixed or his butt was going to be seeing the inside of a courtroom.
The vehicle was fixed, only the innards had rusted out beyond any hope of repair... unbeknownst to me. The vehicle died within a year, without hope of rescusitation.
Fast forward fifteen years. The front of my piano was been removed for some minor repair that the technician has assured us he will set right.
The truck was delivered to the mechanic for said minor repair.
Fast forward three years. The truck still sat in a field of weeds behind the mechanics. But now my father and I were pretty insistent that the damn thing finally be fixed or his butt was going to be seeing the inside of a courtroom.
The vehicle was fixed, only the innards had rusted out beyond any hope of repair... unbeknownst to me. The vehicle died within a year, without hope of rescusitation.
Fast forward fifteen years. The front of my piano was been removed for some minor repair that the technician has assured us he will set right.
28.06.2005
Yada yada yada
In Basic you're told not to do a whole mess of things, for instance:
"Don't try and squeeze your scrawny butt through that window, just because it's the girls showers over there."
"Don't do what I say, do what I mean!"
and the mother of them all:
"Don't piss me off."
I, personally, received: "Wipe that smile off your face," more times than I can count.
At any rate, one of the more stupid ones was, "Don't use NeverDull on your belt buckles... it makes the regulation nickle look like chrome."
Now, maybe I was taking a chance here that could've gotten my butt sent straight to hell via savage pummelling, but I couldn't let something like that just slide... I had to try it. To find out if anyone really noticed.
So, while on guard duty, I whipped out a belt and gave it a good going over. It was beautiful. It glowed. I put it back and thought about what I'd done. It could be a really bad thing. I could wash back to some group 6 weeks back (since this happened in the last week of Basic, when you constantly wear your dress uniform). That'd suck. How can I change the current situation?
So I buffed up my flight leaders belt. And the line leaders belts. And I did those so that they made their own light, putting the full moon to shame. You could light a fire with those things.
Anyway, the next day came along and the yelling commenced. But each one, sweating tears, could honestly say that he had not buffed those suckers up. The Training Instructor came my way, with an even pace, looking at belts... and he walked right past.
The guy 2 down got his butt chewed, though.
"Don't try and squeeze your scrawny butt through that window, just because it's the girls showers over there."
"Don't do what I say, do what I mean!"
and the mother of them all:
"Don't piss me off."
I, personally, received: "Wipe that smile off your face," more times than I can count.
At any rate, one of the more stupid ones was, "Don't use NeverDull on your belt buckles... it makes the regulation nickle look like chrome."
Now, maybe I was taking a chance here that could've gotten my butt sent straight to hell via savage pummelling, but I couldn't let something like that just slide... I had to try it. To find out if anyone really noticed.
So, while on guard duty, I whipped out a belt and gave it a good going over. It was beautiful. It glowed. I put it back and thought about what I'd done. It could be a really bad thing. I could wash back to some group 6 weeks back (since this happened in the last week of Basic, when you constantly wear your dress uniform). That'd suck. How can I change the current situation?
So I buffed up my flight leaders belt. And the line leaders belts. And I did those so that they made their own light, putting the full moon to shame. You could light a fire with those things.
Anyway, the next day came along and the yelling commenced. But each one, sweating tears, could honestly say that he had not buffed those suckers up. The Training Instructor came my way, with an even pace, looking at belts... and he walked right past.
The guy 2 down got his butt chewed, though.
27.06.2005
Here we go again...
Another "Hulk" PC game is on the way. It doesn't look like a movie tie-in (someone PLEASE tell me they aren't making another "Hulk" movie... please!), but it promises to to suck just as badly as any before, which begs the question:
Can a licensed property become a good video game?
Things like comic books and movies sway big-time toward "No". I don't even know of any book adaptations that weren't movies first (James Bond, "From Russia With Love" is a good example). Don't point me toward the HHGTTG text adventure, or I will slap you with... a herring.
There is the exception of the "Lord of the Rings" games. While they weren't all superb, they managed to be better than passable as games. I tend to credit Peter Jackson with this, and with his love of Middle Earth. I can think of no other exceptions.
Can a licensed property become a good video game?
Things like comic books and movies sway big-time toward "No". I don't even know of any book adaptations that weren't movies first (James Bond, "From Russia With Love" is a good example). Don't point me toward the HHGTTG text adventure, or I will slap you with... a herring.
There is the exception of the "Lord of the Rings" games. While they weren't all superb, they managed to be better than passable as games. I tend to credit Peter Jackson with this, and with his love of Middle Earth. I can think of no other exceptions.
25.06.2005
In Hominy
I love music. Fear my collection, which wanders from "Hayseed Dixie" to "Doris Day", from Creedance to Megadeth. True, I don't listen to much instrumental stuff, but within the vocals I'm remarkably diverse. Having recently read a post from Ivy covered walls on the topic, I perused my collection.
And before anyone asks, none of my MP3s were illegally gained. Hell no.
We've got Mozart and Beethoven, Apocalyptica, Baby Einstein, and Catherine Wheel. MC 900 Foot Jesus and Brian Ferry.
And Al. "Weird" Al.
Everything that man has ever spawned musically resides in my house somewhere. Someday I'll have that man's babies.
And before anyone asks, none of my MP3s were illegally gained. Hell no.
We've got Mozart and Beethoven, Apocalyptica, Baby Einstein, and Catherine Wheel. MC 900 Foot Jesus and Brian Ferry.
And Al. "Weird" Al.
Everything that man has ever spawned musically resides in my house somewhere. Someday I'll have that man's babies.
I love this race!
Humanity has it going on. Oh, sure there's the odd missing teen in a tropic paradise, kids locking themselves in a car trunk and dying, or whathaveyou... but we've managed to do some amazing things. I'll list a few of my recent favorites later, but I'd like to give an honorable mention to these folk. The agony of defeat +1.
If it isn't obvious, I groove on the solar sail concept.
If it isn't obvious, I groove on the solar sail concept.
23.06.2005
Question
Did Paulie Shore actually make a movie where people in Hollywood didn't care if he was dead... and then sell it?
Alot
So I went out to pick up some sheet music, and what did I get?
A slide whistle.
There's few items out there that are just filled with childhood glee like the slide whistle. Could you own one of these things and not just grin like a ninny once in a while, knowing it's waiting for you?
This and the prism I picked up about 6 mos ago rank up there as cheap but wonderful.
A slide whistle.
There's few items out there that are just filled with childhood glee like the slide whistle. Could you own one of these things and not just grin like a ninny once in a while, knowing it's waiting for you?
This and the prism I picked up about 6 mos ago rank up there as cheap but wonderful.
17.06.2005
R.E.M.
Tonight I bought ice.
You might ask yourself, "so what? I buy ice all the time."
Fake ice.
Let that sink in for a moment.
I remember thinking something along the lines of "props. Must have props," but that's the best I can think of as to why.
I've done this intermittently my whole life. I collect things, this is true, but sometimes I pick up a white ball and think, "if I cut this in half, used a little paint, shellaced the front, and put it at the end of an optic tube (think "telescope") it'd make a really cool peephole for my door. I'd have to cut the door so that it had a recess, and a cushion on the end for those shmucks that'd hit the ball..."
And then I wander off with it and never do a damn thing about it. And this has been happening my whole life. Not just with little white balls. Old circuit boards, pieces of plywood, the curved glass from an old monitor... the list is staggering.
Currently I'm trying to get a degree in biomedical engineering, but it might not pan out. My wife says that there's a big gap between theatrical engineering (mechanical effects) and my current path, but I don't believe it. Not fully. I realize there might not be much in the way of anatomy, but surely physics and chemistry would be important.
Anyone got any clues on this topic?
You might ask yourself, "so what? I buy ice all the time."
Fake ice.
Let that sink in for a moment.
I remember thinking something along the lines of "props. Must have props," but that's the best I can think of as to why.
I've done this intermittently my whole life. I collect things, this is true, but sometimes I pick up a white ball and think, "if I cut this in half, used a little paint, shellaced the front, and put it at the end of an optic tube (think "telescope") it'd make a really cool peephole for my door. I'd have to cut the door so that it had a recess, and a cushion on the end for those shmucks that'd hit the ball..."
And then I wander off with it and never do a damn thing about it. And this has been happening my whole life. Not just with little white balls. Old circuit boards, pieces of plywood, the curved glass from an old monitor... the list is staggering.
Currently I'm trying to get a degree in biomedical engineering, but it might not pan out. My wife says that there's a big gap between theatrical engineering (mechanical effects) and my current path, but I don't believe it. Not fully. I realize there might not be much in the way of anatomy, but surely physics and chemistry would be important.
Anyone got any clues on this topic?
Love is all around
I'd often wonder, when I was younger, what kind of father I'd be.
This was not the pasttime of my peers, who would simply shrug and see.
Sorry... been reading Dr. Seuss lately. Quite a bit, really.
My kids, in the afternoons particularly, play with building toys or hotwheels cars. About once a week we watch a movie (as long as you don't count the littlest's "Baby Einstein" at night before bed).
After we pick up the wife from work we've taken to playing baseball and golf in the front yard... tomorrow we should plop down the wading pool before giving a shot at the real thing.
I must've read something like 7 books to the youngest today. Ultra reads his own, and was asking for Math help. Super does a bit of both, getting stories at bedtime but managing his own through most of the day.
We sometimes play the piano, or talk about computer programming. I've got art books I use for myself, and Super manages to use shading sometimes.
Tonight, while reading "The Thinks You Can Think" (one of the best Dr. Seuss books around), it struck me that I really am a good dad.
And my family loves me.
This was not the pasttime of my peers, who would simply shrug and see.
Sorry... been reading Dr. Seuss lately. Quite a bit, really.
My kids, in the afternoons particularly, play with building toys or hotwheels cars. About once a week we watch a movie (as long as you don't count the littlest's "Baby Einstein" at night before bed).
After we pick up the wife from work we've taken to playing baseball and golf in the front yard... tomorrow we should plop down the wading pool before giving a shot at the real thing.
I must've read something like 7 books to the youngest today. Ultra reads his own, and was asking for Math help. Super does a bit of both, getting stories at bedtime but managing his own through most of the day.
We sometimes play the piano, or talk about computer programming. I've got art books I use for myself, and Super manages to use shading sometimes.
Tonight, while reading "The Thinks You Can Think" (one of the best Dr. Seuss books around), it struck me that I really am a good dad.
And my family loves me.
15.06.2005
Sinister laughter included
Just got done watching, of all things, Revenge of the Sith. It sucked.
Which might've been what my wife and I needed, but maybe not you. We couldn't stop laughing. It was supposed to be this dark, violent film... but it was too funny to take that way.
The acting was bad (someone should throw Christian Hayden into lava). There are a few good actors, like that Skippy guy (Jimmy Smitz, I think) and Ian McKellan or whatever. And Yoda. Although the parts with him monologing? Annoying, those were.
My dead grandmother writes better scripts. This one feels like it was written on the back of Lucas' hand in between shots, beginning with the words "wouldn't it be cool..."
It is a big hunk of eye candy.
There's a particular part where George was trying to pummel us with just how bad Annikin had become, but it comes up so abruptly that it rings false.
**Spoiler warning**
Children come to Annikin during the assault on the Jedi temple and ask what they should do. Annikin activates his lightsabre, and the door shuts on the scene. The implication is that he kills them... but it comes up so quickly after his conversion, and they aren't (forgive the term) military targets. As a former Jedi he should've stopped short here. The children were not Jedi yet, had not received much if any tutelage, and certainly weren't in on the plot to gain control of the Empire (nes Republic). It seems an unnecessary element.
I won't even go into how idiotic Annikin seems for falling for Sith arguments, nor for not catching the "Sith Lord Plagus the Wise" difficulties.
Largely I have enjoyed Ewan McGregor's portrayal of Obi-Wan, but even that cracks. At a moment in the film Ewan smiles, and it breaks the illusion. It is a distinctly
not an Alec Guiness smile.
And let us not forget the "Frankenstein" homage that is the Darth Vader scene... the one where he is first awakening from the surgery.
My wife and I giggled so hard.
And, finally, two words:
Frilled Lizard.
Which might've been what my wife and I needed, but maybe not you. We couldn't stop laughing. It was supposed to be this dark, violent film... but it was too funny to take that way.
The acting was bad (someone should throw Christian Hayden into lava). There are a few good actors, like that Skippy guy (Jimmy Smitz, I think) and Ian McKellan or whatever. And Yoda. Although the parts with him monologing? Annoying, those were.
My dead grandmother writes better scripts. This one feels like it was written on the back of Lucas' hand in between shots, beginning with the words "wouldn't it be cool..."
It is a big hunk of eye candy.
There's a particular part where George was trying to pummel us with just how bad Annikin had become, but it comes up so abruptly that it rings false.
**Spoiler warning**
Children come to Annikin during the assault on the Jedi temple and ask what they should do. Annikin activates his lightsabre, and the door shuts on the scene. The implication is that he kills them... but it comes up so quickly after his conversion, and they aren't (forgive the term) military targets. As a former Jedi he should've stopped short here. The children were not Jedi yet, had not received much if any tutelage, and certainly weren't in on the plot to gain control of the Empire (nes Republic). It seems an unnecessary element.
I won't even go into how idiotic Annikin seems for falling for Sith arguments, nor for not catching the "Sith Lord Plagus the Wise" difficulties.
Largely I have enjoyed Ewan McGregor's portrayal of Obi-Wan, but even that cracks. At a moment in the film Ewan smiles, and it breaks the illusion. It is a distinctly
not an Alec Guiness smile.
And let us not forget the "Frankenstein" homage that is the Darth Vader scene... the one where he is first awakening from the surgery.
My wife and I giggled so hard.
And, finally, two words:
Frilled Lizard.
14.06.2005
mkay?
Got that DSL stuff hooked up with little hitch. Well, okay... I had to replace my network card with an actual network card. And the cable they gave us was too short by a factor of 3. And the USB cable for my wife is too short by a factor of 4 (so she can't use it until her wireless modem is installed). And the inflight movie was "Biodome".
But now I get to feel like I can hold my own with some of the goobers online that pasted my sorry but when I was 56k (which is about 200k in the hole by their accounts).
So I'm going to.
But now I get to feel like I can hold my own with some of the goobers online that pasted my sorry but when I was 56k (which is about 200k in the hole by their accounts).
So I'm going to.
08.06.2005
05.06.2005
Look, up in the sky...
My youngest has been running around naked, particularly up and down our hall. I respond the way my father would, by yelling:
"Don't look, Ethel!*"
Ultrason has decided that AD&D is too hard for him to run, and he doesn't really like it. "Do we have something easier?"
I've already shown him "Magic: The Gathering," to which he's gotten a few friends addicted (and so spreadeth the curse), but he's looking for an RPG, something a notch above comedy games.
I offer him the simplest RPG I can think of: "Advanced Marvel Superheroes."
He gives it the thumbs up, and it should be interesting (if he gets that far) to see him run "Day of the Octopus".
*Ray Stevens, "The Streak"
"Don't look, Ethel!*"
Ultrason has decided that AD&D is too hard for him to run, and he doesn't really like it. "Do we have something easier?"
I've already shown him "Magic: The Gathering," to which he's gotten a few friends addicted (and so spreadeth the curse), but he's looking for an RPG, something a notch above comedy games.
I offer him the simplest RPG I can think of: "Advanced Marvel Superheroes."
He gives it the thumbs up, and it should be interesting (if he gets that far) to see him run "Day of the Octopus".
*Ray Stevens, "The Streak"
Notorious
Yesterday we went to the pool, which my wife has a prescription for (swimming, that is), and it turned out to be closed for mechanical reasons. We all walked away disappointed, particularly the kids, and I thought that was kind of a bummer.
Hah!
At 2:30 AM my wife smacks my leg sort of gently: "Sweetheart," she says, "this one's worse than before, and I'm too dizzy to move."
She's massaging her heart, and my brain is working on a half-piston. But it fires enough to say, "what? What do you need?"
"Call the doctor, 911."
Suddenly the war room in my brain has all those red lights flashing, but the staff is all on lunch break. Frick. Frick-a-frick.
Somehow I manage getting the phone into my hand and dialing, I've also managed to refill my wife's water (?) and grab the phone number of a friend to watch our kids (she told me to do that, but I don't remember it happening).
"911 dispatch..." yada, yada. No, no, name-the-medication game, heart problem. Still awake, talking, yeah.
About 5 minutes later an ambulance is in our drive way, friends are on the way to watch the kids, and I'm wondering if anyone needs me for anything. I'm offering to get the paramedics coffee or something... from Brazil. "Is that wall in your way? Need me to move it for you?"
They stop her heart for the second time in her life. I can hear the monitor, but I can't see past the technicians to my wife.
Then her heart starts again. It's a little slow initially, but it builds up.
The friends leave their daughter at my house while I collect gear for what could be an all day event and head out. The kids are still asleep.
I get to the hospital and my wife has just gotten there ahead of me, they've got her in a bed and nothing major is happening. The doctor has a pretty good sense of humor and let's us know that there's no reason in particular for this to have happened, save that my wife double-dosed on the BCPs (birth control pills) and the estrogen spike might have done it. Since the last time happened during a pregnancy that sounds reasonable.
We get home around 4:46am, and a teen girl is curled up on our couch, sleeping on the phone.
The kids are still asleep, and don't know anything yet of what happened.
Hah!
At 2:30 AM my wife smacks my leg sort of gently: "Sweetheart," she says, "this one's worse than before, and I'm too dizzy to move."
She's massaging her heart, and my brain is working on a half-piston. But it fires enough to say, "what? What do you need?"
"Call the doctor, 911."
Suddenly the war room in my brain has all those red lights flashing, but the staff is all on lunch break. Frick. Frick-a-frick.
Somehow I manage getting the phone into my hand and dialing, I've also managed to refill my wife's water (?) and grab the phone number of a friend to watch our kids (she told me to do that, but I don't remember it happening).
"911 dispatch..." yada, yada. No, no, name-the-medication game, heart problem. Still awake, talking, yeah.
About 5 minutes later an ambulance is in our drive way, friends are on the way to watch the kids, and I'm wondering if anyone needs me for anything. I'm offering to get the paramedics coffee or something... from Brazil. "Is that wall in your way? Need me to move it for you?"
They stop her heart for the second time in her life. I can hear the monitor, but I can't see past the technicians to my wife.
Then her heart starts again. It's a little slow initially, but it builds up.
The friends leave their daughter at my house while I collect gear for what could be an all day event and head out. The kids are still asleep.
I get to the hospital and my wife has just gotten there ahead of me, they've got her in a bed and nothing major is happening. The doctor has a pretty good sense of humor and let's us know that there's no reason in particular for this to have happened, save that my wife double-dosed on the BCPs (birth control pills) and the estrogen spike might have done it. Since the last time happened during a pregnancy that sounds reasonable.
We get home around 4:46am, and a teen girl is curled up on our couch, sleeping on the phone.
The kids are still asleep, and don't know anything yet of what happened.
04.06.2005
WDSL
No, I will not be starting a high-speed internet radio station, but it sounds like fun doesn't it?
We're considering (read: have ordered) a faster connection for our home. At first I thought that my wife's work was footing the bill, since she works from home.
Nope.
But, hey, it's only another 7 bucks a month, so that's not bad. And we more than double our speed with a dedicated line that'll be our phone and internet connection, plus we'll be doing the wireless networking thing, so it's all very convenient and inexpensive.
And then I passed the one of many MMORPGs over at the local Target-Mart.
I'm getting the shakes.
One of the reasons I don't play MMORPGs, aside from expense, is that my connection makes me fodder for the gun-toting goobers that seem to populate every corner of those places. I've played 3 games, let's go around the room.
Ultima Online: I played a farmer. I'll admit that it wasn't the most happening character on the planet, but I was happy. Until some punks ran over my bean patch. I chased them, waving my hoe, until they killed me. There was no discussion, no "I'm sorry", not even a few gold for my trouble.
No One Lives Forever: It's a fun spy game, really. If you haven't played it, you should grab a 5 dollar version of the game (game of the year edition, even) and play the heck out of it. It's tres silly, but worth it. Get online and the spy part is removed, leaving you with bushwackers and deathdealers. God help you if you don't have at least a 256K modem. Aim for T1. Frick.
Aliens vs. Predator 2: What did I expect? It is decidedly a combat game, but the people online lack the subtlety that I aspire to. And the people on your side shoot you. Again, Frick. The original game is slick, and the atmosphere in it and the original is to die for. It simply doesn't get better than either of them (exception: Predator mode in the original stinks compared to the sequal). I do not blame them.
Much of what I've heard of online gaming does not change my opinion of it. I've not begged my wife for this, nor have I hunted down opportunities to purchase "World of Warcraft". Or "City of Heroes". I'll cover my addiction to 4-color comics at some future point.
If anyone has a copy of "Freedom Fighters," though, I'd appreciate a hand-off. Maybe I can sling something at you in return.
At any rate, while I might explore free servers (I could really use some more V:tM interaction online), I don't really get why anyone would pay for... what's that? Oh, constantly improved game play in an expanding world that evolves at the same time.
>sigh<
We're considering (read: have ordered) a faster connection for our home. At first I thought that my wife's work was footing the bill, since she works from home.
Nope.
But, hey, it's only another 7 bucks a month, so that's not bad. And we more than double our speed with a dedicated line that'll be our phone and internet connection, plus we'll be doing the wireless networking thing, so it's all very convenient and inexpensive.
And then I passed the one of many MMORPGs over at the local Target-Mart.
I'm getting the shakes.
One of the reasons I don't play MMORPGs, aside from expense, is that my connection makes me fodder for the gun-toting goobers that seem to populate every corner of those places. I've played 3 games, let's go around the room.
Ultima Online: I played a farmer. I'll admit that it wasn't the most happening character on the planet, but I was happy. Until some punks ran over my bean patch. I chased them, waving my hoe, until they killed me. There was no discussion, no "I'm sorry", not even a few gold for my trouble.
No One Lives Forever: It's a fun spy game, really. If you haven't played it, you should grab a 5 dollar version of the game (game of the year edition, even) and play the heck out of it. It's tres silly, but worth it. Get online and the spy part is removed, leaving you with bushwackers and deathdealers. God help you if you don't have at least a 256K modem. Aim for T1. Frick.
Aliens vs. Predator 2: What did I expect? It is decidedly a combat game, but the people online lack the subtlety that I aspire to. And the people on your side shoot you. Again, Frick. The original game is slick, and the atmosphere in it and the original is to die for. It simply doesn't get better than either of them (exception: Predator mode in the original stinks compared to the sequal). I do not blame them.
Much of what I've heard of online gaming does not change my opinion of it. I've not begged my wife for this, nor have I hunted down opportunities to purchase "World of Warcraft". Or "City of Heroes". I'll cover my addiction to 4-color comics at some future point.
If anyone has a copy of "Freedom Fighters," though, I'd appreciate a hand-off. Maybe I can sling something at you in return.
At any rate, while I might explore free servers (I could really use some more V:tM interaction online), I don't really get why anyone would pay for... what's that? Oh, constantly improved game play in an expanding world that evolves at the same time.
>sigh<
01.06.2005
Sonuva
A few days ago we purchased a piano, with the understanding that they would deliver, and I volunteered to assist instead of paying fifty bucks.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The gentleman arrived at shortly after 2 pm. I'd spoken to him several times on the phone, and he sounded like Wolfman Jack. This kept superson in stitches, and he often asks if we're going to talk to Wolfman. At any rate, our youngest went down for his nap. That's really nice. Superson runs outside and lays down in the shade of the twig that passes for a tree in our front yard while this guy tells me to get behind... no to the left, your other... why don't you get on the other side and stradle the dolly while I... oh hell.
See, he told me to push and, being the dummy that I am, I pushed. The first thing he told me was that we had to get the piano, about the size of a dresser, with the weight of a Buick and without the convenience of wheels, onto the dolly. He positioned me behind the piano because I was the skinniest of the two (which is necessary for getting into the van past the piano), and I don't think he expected me to push very hard. Unfortunately I've been reading alot about Bruce Lee and Marines lately, which gets a body kind of psyched. I pushed with all my pythons, guns, or whatever other euphemism you might want to use for the licorice whips that are my arms could muster. The piano exited the van.
It missed the dolly. Fortunately, Mr. Man was under it, cushioning the thing from the concrete. I think he broke a rib.
Anyway, we managed to lift the thing onto the dolly (go us) after some serious screaming, a bit of cussing, and more than one comment about owing drinks.
About this time, superson lifts himself up out of the shade, "can I help?"
"No."
"Please?"
"How about you go inside and keep Ultrason occupied?"
"Okay!"
He then preceeds to run laps around us while we try and maneuver about 3000 pounds of mahogany and metal up steps. This is not an easy time, and we take about 20 minutes doing it, but it's not the worst step of the process.
"Homestretch," he says. "How about we lift it over the railing here?"
"We can't get it down the hall upright," I ask.
"I don't think so."
"How about we do some rethinking?"
Wolfman grabs a tape measure while I hold the piano ("don't leave the piano! Don't EVER leave the piano!") and stares at it intently. "I'd say we've got maybe half an inch of room," he offers.
"Let's do it."
In case I haven't made the weight of this thing abundantly clear, let me offer a simile: "Like pushing a landed adult blue whale back into the sea."
Other words, my father called them "active adjectives" come to mind.
We made it all the way through by taking 20 minute breaks every 20 inches. About halfway I offered to get him something to drink (just water, okay?) and considered convincing my wife that we want a behemoth half way down the hall.
I'd like to pause and say that the damnable leviathan has WHEELS, but we can't use them on carpet. So we had to carry it. Oh, and the legs will snap right off if you put any weight on them. Purely decorative.
So, we get it in place, and we have piano. We can't open our backdoor, we have to have specialist tune the thing every five seconds (kids) and get a humidifier unless we feel like having it tuned every 2 seconds, my back feels like I've been runover, and the kids absolutely love jumping on it (creating more noise than was witnessed at that little Normandy get together during WWII), but we've got a piano!
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The gentleman arrived at shortly after 2 pm. I'd spoken to him several times on the phone, and he sounded like Wolfman Jack. This kept superson in stitches, and he often asks if we're going to talk to Wolfman. At any rate, our youngest went down for his nap. That's really nice. Superson runs outside and lays down in the shade of the twig that passes for a tree in our front yard while this guy tells me to get behind... no to the left, your other... why don't you get on the other side and stradle the dolly while I... oh hell.
See, he told me to push and, being the dummy that I am, I pushed. The first thing he told me was that we had to get the piano, about the size of a dresser, with the weight of a Buick and without the convenience of wheels, onto the dolly. He positioned me behind the piano because I was the skinniest of the two (which is necessary for getting into the van past the piano), and I don't think he expected me to push very hard. Unfortunately I've been reading alot about Bruce Lee and Marines lately, which gets a body kind of psyched. I pushed with all my pythons, guns, or whatever other euphemism you might want to use for the licorice whips that are my arms could muster. The piano exited the van.
It missed the dolly. Fortunately, Mr. Man was under it, cushioning the thing from the concrete. I think he broke a rib.
Anyway, we managed to lift the thing onto the dolly (go us) after some serious screaming, a bit of cussing, and more than one comment about owing drinks.
About this time, superson lifts himself up out of the shade, "can I help?"
"No."
"Please?"
"How about you go inside and keep Ultrason occupied?"
"Okay!"
He then preceeds to run laps around us while we try and maneuver about 3000 pounds of mahogany and metal up steps. This is not an easy time, and we take about 20 minutes doing it, but it's not the worst step of the process.
"Homestretch," he says. "How about we lift it over the railing here?"
"We can't get it down the hall upright," I ask.
"I don't think so."
"How about we do some rethinking?"
Wolfman grabs a tape measure while I hold the piano ("don't leave the piano! Don't EVER leave the piano!") and stares at it intently. "I'd say we've got maybe half an inch of room," he offers.
"Let's do it."
In case I haven't made the weight of this thing abundantly clear, let me offer a simile: "Like pushing a landed adult blue whale back into the sea."
Other words, my father called them "active adjectives" come to mind.
We made it all the way through by taking 20 minute breaks every 20 inches. About halfway I offered to get him something to drink (just water, okay?) and considered convincing my wife that we want a behemoth half way down the hall.
I'd like to pause and say that the damnable leviathan has WHEELS, but we can't use them on carpet. So we had to carry it. Oh, and the legs will snap right off if you put any weight on them. Purely decorative.
So, we get it in place, and we have piano. We can't open our backdoor, we have to have specialist tune the thing every five seconds (kids) and get a humidifier unless we feel like having it tuned every 2 seconds, my back feels like I've been runover, and the kids absolutely love jumping on it (creating more noise than was witnessed at that little Normandy get together during WWII), but we've got a piano!
footnote: Mr. Man left with only a slight limp. I'll have to work on my aim.
31.05.2005
Bwahahahaha!!!!
Years ago I discovered a weakness, and I would wait, bide my time, to exploit it. Oh, yes. Stress, illness... these things made the time ripe.
I cruised the internet, seeking the perfect equipment for the task at hand.
"How's this one," I would query my prey, knowing eventually she would give in.
And she has.
Yesterday, we bought a piano.
I cruised the internet, seeking the perfect equipment for the task at hand.
"How's this one," I would query my prey, knowing eventually she would give in.
And she has.
Yesterday, we bought a piano.
30.05.2005
Piano Man
I haven't done this in a while... ever on this blog, so here goes:
This one's for all the sexy people in the house!
(To the tune of Offspring's eternally good "Self Esteem")
I had an interview, tenth one today
And practiced all the things I had to say
But got passed over
worked my last nerve
went to my cubicle, cried til it hurt.
I feel like I'm being used
That's okay cause I've got no self esteem
I work hard deep into the night
I stop at 2 then I turn out the light
And this rejection's got me so low
I'd quit tomorrow but I can't seem to go.
When we do lunch and the boss rolls some heads
then she wonders why she doesn't have friends
We laugh out loud and bang on our knees
She tells us slackers to pull up our end
Well I guess we should pick up more elves
To magic the work she gave us today.
The more you suffer
The less it shows you really work.
Right?
(Yeah yeah yeah)
Now I'll relate this a little bit
That happens more than I'd like to admit
Five p.m. and she knocks on my door
Past deadline and she's gonna roar.
Now I know I gotta kiss feet
So my family doesn't live on the street
I may be hosed
But I'm not a feeb
I'm just a worker with no self esteem.
This one's for all the sexy people in the house!
(To the tune of Offspring's eternally good "Self Esteem")
I had an interview, tenth one today
And practiced all the things I had to say
But got passed over
worked my last nerve
went to my cubicle, cried til it hurt.
I feel like I'm being used
That's okay cause I've got no self esteem
I work hard deep into the night
I stop at 2 then I turn out the light
And this rejection's got me so low
I'd quit tomorrow but I can't seem to go.
When we do lunch and the boss rolls some heads
then she wonders why she doesn't have friends
We laugh out loud and bang on our knees
She tells us slackers to pull up our end
Well I guess we should pick up more elves
To magic the work she gave us today.
The more you suffer
The less it shows you really work.
Right?
(Yeah yeah yeah)
Now I'll relate this a little bit
That happens more than I'd like to admit
Five p.m. and she knocks on my door
Past deadline and she's gonna roar.
Now I know I gotta kiss feet
So my family doesn't live on the street
I may be hosed
But I'm not a feeb
I'm just a worker with no self esteem.
27.05.2005
Spoiling my kids
'kay, so we're at dinner talking casually and the subject of "Star Wars" comes up. It's a long meander around some of the disappointments and joys of the series and considers many points of meaning and where they might point to. Ultrason, being interested in the deep meanings behind such things jumps in, and awaaaaay we go.
Until I mention that Anakin becomes Darth Vader. Dogs howl in the background as Ultrason goes wide-eyed:
"He DOES?"
How have I raised a child that doesn't know that, I ask you? I took that boy to see the newly released Trilogy on opening night... a child that knew "lightsabre" before he spoke "mama". It boggles the mind.
Right, well I better start working on "Dune," then. No way am I having my kid ask me about Atreides lineage after "Dune Messiah" is released.
And he will repeat the "fear is the mind killer" soliloquy before he reaches 12. dangit.
Until I mention that Anakin becomes Darth Vader. Dogs howl in the background as Ultrason goes wide-eyed:
"He DOES?"
How have I raised a child that doesn't know that, I ask you? I took that boy to see the newly released Trilogy on opening night... a child that knew "lightsabre" before he spoke "mama". It boggles the mind.
Right, well I better start working on "Dune," then. No way am I having my kid ask me about Atreides lineage after "Dune Messiah" is released.
And he will repeat the "fear is the mind killer" soliloquy before he reaches 12. dangit.
26.05.2005
Strippers!
My wife recently applied for a promotion, because no one thought of her. I've seen her at work, and I can at least compare her to the other people in her office.
She rocks!
They turned her down, saying that they'd redefined the position. What they want is a PR guy that's tech savvy, instead of an editor. What this means is that the actual editors will have more work.
Oh, and they (the head honchoes) will be "looking at overinflated titles."
The fine people at this company froze raises for people with salaries under 50 grand a year a few years back, holding that in place until well after Folio reported that salaries were going up. They've continually lost people/fired them and refuse to make up lost ground.
The publisher/company calls editors of the magazines "a drain on profit," similar to the janitorial staff, only worse. The workload has increased by something close to 300% from what it started as. Originally they (the owning company) claimed that they wouldn't alter "corporate culture" and then went about mucking with every last damn element thereof (when was the last Christmas party, I wonder?).
And now they want to strip the editors of one of the few things they might have a little pride in.
The current President of the company once said something that has kept us from losing our sanity, "it looks good on a resume."
Now it won't even do that.
Congratulations on wasting about 10 years of your life.
Worse, under our current circumstances we can't move. My wife can't get a new job elsewhere. We're stuck.
There is a word that rhymes, which I feel about sums it up:
Duck.
She rocks!
They turned her down, saying that they'd redefined the position. What they want is a PR guy that's tech savvy, instead of an editor. What this means is that the actual editors will have more work.
Oh, and they (the head honchoes) will be "looking at overinflated titles."
The fine people at this company froze raises for people with salaries under 50 grand a year a few years back, holding that in place until well after Folio reported that salaries were going up. They've continually lost people/fired them and refuse to make up lost ground.
The publisher/company calls editors of the magazines "a drain on profit," similar to the janitorial staff, only worse. The workload has increased by something close to 300% from what it started as. Originally they (the owning company) claimed that they wouldn't alter "corporate culture" and then went about mucking with every last damn element thereof (when was the last Christmas party, I wonder?).
And now they want to strip the editors of one of the few things they might have a little pride in.
The current President of the company once said something that has kept us from losing our sanity, "it looks good on a resume."
Now it won't even do that.
Congratulations on wasting about 10 years of your life.
Worse, under our current circumstances we can't move. My wife can't get a new job elsewhere. We're stuck.
There is a word that rhymes, which I feel about sums it up:
Duck.
Important
I believe that everyone is basically good.
Everyone.
Some people are misguided as to what it means to be good, but this can be overcome.
Everyone.
Some people are misguided as to what it means to be good, but this can be overcome.
23.05.2005
Raising Caine
I live with the possibility, however remote, that one of my children that has been exposed to a molester now might harbor an interest in his brothers beyond what is healthy.
This, of course, sucks. It riddles bedtime with opportunities, bathtime becomes trauma, and waking up an exercise in caution and alertness.
I want openness and honesty and fun, damn it.
This, of course, sucks. It riddles bedtime with opportunities, bathtime becomes trauma, and waking up an exercise in caution and alertness.
I want openness and honesty and fun, damn it.
22.05.2005
G.I. Whoa!
When I was a kid, the 12 inch G.I. Joe wasn't on shelves... I think. But friends of mine had some. The fuzz on his noggin made him look like he was fresh from boot, and his muscles... well, he didn't have any. He made Ken look studly from the musculature perspective. He didn't even have the pecs of Ken.
A few years back my son received one of the more recent G.I. Joes. His fuzz has been replaced with plastic hair (molded as part of his noggin), which makes me think that he's got more in common than Ken now.
Nope. Dude is ripped. Try not to ask yourself why I'm checking out Joe's pecs and focus on the message: G.I. Joe actually looks like someone you don't wanna mess with.
The .45 helps with that, though.
A few years back my son received one of the more recent G.I. Joes. His fuzz has been replaced with plastic hair (molded as part of his noggin), which makes me think that he's got more in common than Ken now.
Nope. Dude is ripped. Try not to ask yourself why I'm checking out Joe's pecs and focus on the message: G.I. Joe actually looks like someone you don't wanna mess with.
The .45 helps with that, though.
21.05.2005
Sweet Mary on a Pogo Stick!
This could be the start of something big.
And all this time I've been concerned about batteries. >slaps self<
And all this time I've been concerned about batteries. >slaps self<
20.05.2005
Feel the love
Ask me why I love visiting Steve Jackson Games and I might point to the Fnorder:
Of course, sometimes it tells me I'm looking for naked elf gifs, but what can one expect from an interstellar sex god?
You are the 3738th interstellar sex god here today
Of course, sometimes it tells me I'm looking for naked elf gifs, but what can one expect from an interstellar sex god?
Vampire vs. Jedi
Well, no. This isn't a post about them opposing each other. Let me start by saying this:
"Vampire: the Masquerade: Bloodlines" is a good game. It entertains and permits paths other than violence (most of the time) toward the ending. Walk-thrus have to be pretty broad ("defeat this opponent" not "sever the head" type instructions). Compared to the litany of fantasy CRPGs that are so thoroughly combat oriented as to not permit you passed certain doors without defeating what amounts to a level boss... well.
"Revenge of the Sith," may well be a good movie, as many reviewers have stated, but I find that the first movie crippled what little I could enjoy of the second movie, which has thoroughly corrupted the possibility of my enjoying the third.
Yeah, I loved saying that.
The first trilogy was focused, the dialogue believable (inside its... idiom), and the characters enjoyable. You couldn't help but like it. It swaggered the same way Han Solo did, but enjoyed an enviable innocence.
Not so the next 3.
I might eventually see Sith, but it won't be an effort on my part.
"Vampire: the Masquerade: Bloodlines" is a good game. It entertains and permits paths other than violence (most of the time) toward the ending. Walk-thrus have to be pretty broad ("defeat this opponent" not "sever the head" type instructions). Compared to the litany of fantasy CRPGs that are so thoroughly combat oriented as to not permit you passed certain doors without defeating what amounts to a level boss... well.
"Revenge of the Sith," may well be a good movie, as many reviewers have stated, but I find that the first movie crippled what little I could enjoy of the second movie, which has thoroughly corrupted the possibility of my enjoying the third.
Yeah, I loved saying that.
The first trilogy was focused, the dialogue believable (inside its... idiom), and the characters enjoyable. You couldn't help but like it. It swaggered the same way Han Solo did, but enjoyed an enviable innocence.
Not so the next 3.
I might eventually see Sith, but it won't be an effort on my part.
18.05.2005
bo beme, banana-fana-fo feme
3 names you go by (that won't give away my identity):
Daddy
Robert Brown
Dirk
3 screennames you've had:
Dot
Dante
Dirk
3 physical things you like about yourself:
My butt
My boniness
My nose
3 physical things you dislike about yourself:
The weight I've gained
Poor eyesight
Aches in some of my bones
3 parts of your heritage:
Scottish
Cherokee
German
3 things you are wearing right now:
Pants
Shirt
Glasses
3 favorite bands / musical artists:
"Weird Al" Yankovic
Bare Naked Ladies
Chuck Berry
3 favorite songs:
"Johnny B. Goode"
"If I had a Million Dollars"
"Hardware Store"
3 things you want in a relationship:
Love
Trust
Respect
3 physical things about the preferred sex that appeals to you:
Eyes
Ankles
Boobies
3 of your favorite hobbies:
Reading
Gaming
Contemplating my navel
3 things you want to do really badly right now:
Lose weight
Have sex
Write a novel.
3 things that scare you:
The constant failing of mankind to live up to its potential and the likely results
That stuff between my toes
Stupid drivers.
3 of your everyday essentials:
Water
Book
Food
3 careers you have considered or are considering:
Lawyer
Teacher
Air Force Analyst
3 places you want to go on vacation:
Germany
England
Thailand
Egypt
Australia (very briefly)
3 kids' names you like:
Liam
Darth
Bator
3 things you want to do before you die:
Have sex again.
Write a novel
Have a positive effect on the world
3 ways you are stereotypically a boy: (uh...I'm just taking a shot in the dark here. Are these guy things? I guess I don't get guys enough to know what "guy things" would be right off hand)
I'm difficult to offend
I think South Park is funny
I want to have sex... again.
3 ways you are stereotypically a chick:
I'm nurturing
I'm intelligent
Somebody else better fix my car... what if I bend over alot?
I like to bake bread.
Daddy
Robert Brown
Dirk
3 screennames you've had:
Dot
Dante
Dirk
3 physical things you like about yourself:
My butt
My boniness
My nose
3 physical things you dislike about yourself:
The weight I've gained
Poor eyesight
Aches in some of my bones
3 parts of your heritage:
Scottish
Cherokee
German
3 things you are wearing right now:
Pants
Shirt
Glasses
3 favorite bands / musical artists:
"Weird Al" Yankovic
Bare Naked Ladies
Chuck Berry
3 favorite songs:
"Johnny B. Goode"
"If I had a Million Dollars"
"Hardware Store"
3 things you want in a relationship:
Love
Trust
Respect
3 physical things about the preferred sex that appeals to you:
Eyes
Ankles
Boobies
3 of your favorite hobbies:
Reading
Gaming
Contemplating my navel
3 things you want to do really badly right now:
Lose weight
Have sex
Write a novel.
3 things that scare you:
The constant failing of mankind to live up to its potential and the likely results
That stuff between my toes
Stupid drivers.
3 of your everyday essentials:
Water
Book
Food
3 careers you have considered or are considering:
Lawyer
Teacher
Air Force Analyst
3 places you want to go on vacation:
Germany
England
Thailand
Egypt
Australia (very briefly)
3 kids' names you like:
Liam
Darth
Bator
3 things you want to do before you die:
Have sex again.
Write a novel
Have a positive effect on the world
3 ways you are stereotypically a boy: (uh...I'm just taking a shot in the dark here. Are these guy things? I guess I don't get guys enough to know what "guy things" would be right off hand)
I'm difficult to offend
I think South Park is funny
I want to have sex... again.
3 ways you are stereotypically a chick:
I'm nurturing
I'm intelligent
Somebody else better fix my car... what if I bend over alot?
I like to bake bread.
Food for thought
A friend of mine used to frequently say, "salad is not food. Salad feeds food."
This statement is not wholely correct. The human body cannot digest food without assistance... it simply does not have the ability by its lonesome to do so. Salad passes through the stomach, becoming a mash, which further enters the duodenum and intestines, where the mash is ravaged by microorganisms that can digest plant matter. The nutrients we digest aren't used by those organisms, who excrete what we then assimilate.
Symbiosis is a beautiful thing.
This statement is not wholely correct. The human body cannot digest food without assistance... it simply does not have the ability by its lonesome to do so. Salad passes through the stomach, becoming a mash, which further enters the duodenum and intestines, where the mash is ravaged by microorganisms that can digest plant matter. The nutrients we digest aren't used by those organisms, who excrete what we then assimilate.
Symbiosis is a beautiful thing.
17.05.2005
Ed
My first exposure to RPGs, the games... not the rockets, was first edition AD&D. And so it shall probably be with Ultrason, who I've managed to convince on the grounds that I have a lot more stuff on it.
Thing is, it's been about 20 years since I played, so I've got to relearn some of the system. I've been reading the PHB when I ran across a bit in the equipment section that said Wizards could start wielding two-handed swords at level 2 if they wanted.
Crap.
Wish I'd known that back in the day. Nobody I knew played with the weapon proficiencies set into the game, which means that wizards had their butts handed to them on a regular basis, up until level 5.
I know that most of you don't care about this, but it's kind of like finding out that in the edition of Monopoly you had as a kid loans were encouraged, but nobody played with them.
Thing is, it's been about 20 years since I played, so I've got to relearn some of the system. I've been reading the PHB when I ran across a bit in the equipment section that said Wizards could start wielding two-handed swords at level 2 if they wanted.
Crap.
Wish I'd known that back in the day. Nobody I knew played with the weapon proficiencies set into the game, which means that wizards had their butts handed to them on a regular basis, up until level 5.
I know that most of you don't care about this, but it's kind of like finding out that in the edition of Monopoly you had as a kid loans were encouraged, but nobody played with them.
Kudzu
Kudzu, the plant, is the Samuel L. Jackson of the plant world. "Hand me my chlorophyll," it'll say, "it's the one that says 'bad mutha' on it." In the South it's unavoidable. Whole forests are landscaped in Kudzu, Kudzu reclines in the living rooms, and slow moving cars are gangraped by the stuff.
But now it might be up against a more serious opponent than ever before.
CNN reports that you can get a buzz from it.
Most of the article seems ludicrous. Having Whiskey around has never prevented people from being heavy drinkers, so it's unlikely that anyone will cut back after rolling some Kudzu.
And, yeah, I'm thinking that once people find out you can get a buzz from this plant, it's unlikely that it will remain safe from the axes of crazed drug users. And I don't want the FDA or the ATF getting involved.
I'll grant that drug use is bad, but Kudzu hurts something fierce. It grows fast and aggressively kills other plants, crippling the South's ability to grow pretty much anything. From an economic standpoint, killing off Kudzu would be a boon of untold value... confining just a few samples to the CDC labs for study on viral growth.
On the other hand, it explains why southern squirrels act different than others.
But now it might be up against a more serious opponent than ever before.
CNN reports that you can get a buzz from it.
Most of the article seems ludicrous. Having Whiskey around has never prevented people from being heavy drinkers, so it's unlikely that anyone will cut back after rolling some Kudzu.
And, yeah, I'm thinking that once people find out you can get a buzz from this plant, it's unlikely that it will remain safe from the axes of crazed drug users. And I don't want the FDA or the ATF getting involved.
I'll grant that drug use is bad, but Kudzu hurts something fierce. It grows fast and aggressively kills other plants, crippling the South's ability to grow pretty much anything. From an economic standpoint, killing off Kudzu would be a boon of untold value... confining just a few samples to the CDC labs for study on viral growth.
On the other hand, it explains why southern squirrels act different than others.
Rub-a-dub-dub...
Wierdness, that they sell toothbrushes with rubber bits on the head. It's like brushing your teeth with a condom.
Which doesn't stop me, but some people are opposed.
Which doesn't stop me, but some people are opposed.
14.05.2005
Never tell me the odds!
I've heard alot of naysaying about the conflict/situation in Iraq, but I'd like to say that the headlines could represent things more acurately. This article kicks off by saying that Americans are dead, something that is important to other Americans, I imagine. But it doesn't say anything about the 120+ insurgents that suffered the same fate. What if those insurgents have family in the U.S.? Or simply people routing for them (as I know some are)? Heck, the press has pushed for that kind of atmosphere... they should support it.
At any rate, when the odds are 12:1 in your favor, Jimmy the Greek says to play them odds.
At any rate, when the odds are 12:1 in your favor, Jimmy the Greek says to play them odds.
12.05.2005
The Art
Not long ago it was suggested that, in the future, my wife and I might play an online game of "Ars Magica". The problem is that, within my research, I've yet to locate a community for it.
Yahoogroups: Dead
RPGOnline: Nada
Google: What?
It's not that none have ever existed. Yahoo gives something like 64 games. All from the distant past, these games are no longer active.
This requires more thought, and research.
Thoughts?
Yahoogroups: Dead
RPGOnline: Nada
Google: What?
It's not that none have ever existed. Yahoo gives something like 64 games. All from the distant past, these games are no longer active.
This requires more thought, and research.
Thoughts?
I'm not dead yet!
I owe an apology to Chuck Berry. He's not dead. He's old enough to be dead, but he's still rockin'.
When he does die, I'm most certain they'll bury him next to Beethoven, just for the hell of it.
When he does die, I'm most certain they'll bury him next to Beethoven, just for the hell of it.
10.05.2005
09.05.2005
Siths in Toyland
Superson cried when he didn't have time to take the recycle down to the curb today. He was reassured that we'd return home shortly and he'd have a chance. There was just a quick stop at the store between him and it.
A few nights ago my wife and I were discussing Sith when our youngest passed us making respirator noises. Since he's never seen any of those movies, it's impressive. Most impressive. But it was only a shadow of his obsession.
Today Superson, while we were at the store, asked to see the Hot Wheels* section so that he might consider which one he'll get this week, which seemed reasonable. We make the visit with no incident, even passing some Legos without crying**, until we hit the "Star Wars" aisle.
"May I see a lightsabre," inquires Superson with prim elocution, and how can one say 'no' to that? I hand one to him for inspection. The youngest leans and grunts, indicating that it would be only fair if he is permitted the same. I hand it over to him.
The youngest makes lightsabre noises (you know the ones). Naturally they both start leaning out of the buggy and trying to cut apart everything in sight. It was really fun. If nothing else, it's those kinds of moments where I actually want to thank Lucas for releasing new flicks. They may suck, but the toys really bring back childhood.
We went all over the store, causing havoc, cutting into displays, and threatening teenagers*** with imminent death. It was, truly magnificent. We kept it up for the better part of an hour. Then I cruised over to the pharmacy, where sick people got euthenized free of charge, and then to the checkout.
I had no intention of paying for those things. At $7 a piece they were outside of my budget. I'm doing good to get them that dollar car every week. Superson was easily disarmed with a wrenching movement, but I foolishly alerted the youngest to my intentions. He held back the handle and pointed the blade at me, a look of grim determination^ on his face.
I look squarely at him, "so be it... Jedi."
Vicious tickling commences, the closest thing a dad has to force lightning (I can even tickle without touching). Finally, he drops the weapon, which is snatched up and handed to the cashier for disposal.
We leave, my youngest screaming. Now I know why Luke was such a whiner.
*My parents introduced the "Johnny Lightning" line of cars, and I must say that I'm hooked. Dang things are 3 times as expensive as Hot Wheels, but actually feature cars with fins and stuff. The classics. This month's vehicle of of choice is either the '82 corvette or the '69 mustang, I can't decide.
**Although there is a moment of curiosity over the Mr. Fantastic figure (also known as a repainted Stretch Armstrong).
***Don't these kids have anything better to do than hang out at Wal-mart on a friggin' Monday morning? Go to class? Work? Sleep in?
^He even had the green "Yoda" special. I love my kids!
A few nights ago my wife and I were discussing Sith when our youngest passed us making respirator noises. Since he's never seen any of those movies, it's impressive. Most impressive. But it was only a shadow of his obsession.
Today Superson, while we were at the store, asked to see the Hot Wheels* section so that he might consider which one he'll get this week, which seemed reasonable. We make the visit with no incident, even passing some Legos without crying**, until we hit the "Star Wars" aisle.
"May I see a lightsabre," inquires Superson with prim elocution, and how can one say 'no' to that? I hand one to him for inspection. The youngest leans and grunts, indicating that it would be only fair if he is permitted the same. I hand it over to him.
The youngest makes lightsabre noises (you know the ones). Naturally they both start leaning out of the buggy and trying to cut apart everything in sight. It was really fun. If nothing else, it's those kinds of moments where I actually want to thank Lucas for releasing new flicks. They may suck, but the toys really bring back childhood.
We went all over the store, causing havoc, cutting into displays, and threatening teenagers*** with imminent death. It was, truly magnificent. We kept it up for the better part of an hour. Then I cruised over to the pharmacy, where sick people got euthenized free of charge, and then to the checkout.
I had no intention of paying for those things. At $7 a piece they were outside of my budget. I'm doing good to get them that dollar car every week. Superson was easily disarmed with a wrenching movement, but I foolishly alerted the youngest to my intentions. He held back the handle and pointed the blade at me, a look of grim determination^ on his face.
I look squarely at him, "so be it... Jedi."
Vicious tickling commences, the closest thing a dad has to force lightning (I can even tickle without touching). Finally, he drops the weapon, which is snatched up and handed to the cashier for disposal.
We leave, my youngest screaming. Now I know why Luke was such a whiner.
*My parents introduced the "Johnny Lightning" line of cars, and I must say that I'm hooked. Dang things are 3 times as expensive as Hot Wheels, but actually feature cars with fins and stuff. The classics. This month's vehicle of of choice is either the '82 corvette or the '69 mustang, I can't decide.
**Although there is a moment of curiosity over the Mr. Fantastic figure (also known as a repainted Stretch Armstrong).
***Don't these kids have anything better to do than hang out at Wal-mart on a friggin' Monday morning? Go to class? Work? Sleep in?
^He even had the green "Yoda" special. I love my kids!
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